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E. J. McIVER, 

h. w. McMillan, 











American History— Prelection, by the 
late Judge Murphey, 49 

A Beauty in Age, 459 

A Review of Henry of Ofterdinge, 
A Romance, (Editorial,) 428 

An Epistle from the Literary world, 86 

An Ancient North Carolina Book, 

An ancient Supper, (Editorial) 

A Song, (Poetry,) 

A Conversation, 

A word to our Subscribers, (Ed.) 

A word to the Students, (Ed.) 

A trip to the Mountains, 

A Remarkable Coincidence, 

A Lecture on the English Lan- 
guage, by the Rev. William 

A notice of Commencement, (Ed.) 283 

A Memoir of Gen. John Ashe 
of the Revolution, 366 

A letter from a Lady, (Editorial) 141 

Battle of Moore's Creek, (Ed.) 139 

Best opening for a Press in North 
Carolina, (Editorial) 229 

Biographical Sketch of Captain 
Johnston Blakely, by Joseph 
Johnson, M. D., of Charleston, 
South Carolina, 1 

Biographical Sketch of Gen. How- 
ard, taken from the Democratic 
Review, Vol. 1, No. 1, (Ed.) 39 

Charlie CConnnell or the Maniac 

at the grave of his Mother, 216 

Christopher North, 289 

College Association, (Ed.) 378 

College Lions, (Editorial) 181 

College Poetry, (Editorial) 183 

College Sprees, (Editorial) 189 

Commencement at Harvard Col- 
, lege— Latest Strike, (Ed.) 287 

Conversation enriches the Mind, 
, (Editorial) 138 

David Copperfield, 125 

Death Comes, 180 

Departments of Civil Engineering 
and Analytical and Agricultural 
Chemistry in the University, 
(Editorial) 89 

Egotism — Birth of the Magazine, 

(Editorial,) 423 

Emma Fitzherne, 399 

Encourage the Beautiful — the use- 
ful encourages itself, 417 
Estalishment of the Press in North 

Carolina, (Editorial) 40 

Experience, (Editorial) 326 

Extracts from the Wavelets of 
Memory, 78, 117, 208 , 276, 415 

Goldsmith's Deserted Village, (Ed) 475 
Government founded in man's mo- 
ral nature, 74 
Growth of Infidelity in the United 
States, (Editorial,) 330 

Historical Society of the Universi- 
ty of North Carolina, 313 
How sweet the morn, 71 

I have no home on earth, 

Joan of Arc, 
John B. Ashe, 
John G. Saxe, 

Last Vacation, (Editorial) 
Legend of St. Patrick's Spring, 






Letter from Prof. Charles Phillips, 

(Editorial) 90 

Line to a beautiful Boquet, 398 

Literature, (Editorial,) 377 

Longevity — Natural and Official, 

(Editorial,) 467 



Memoirs of Captain John Templin 

Shubrick, 193 

Men of thought, 419 

Mind your own business, 225 

Moses' visit to Raleigh, 304 

My school and schoolmasters, 409 

My tears, 166 

Natural Bridge, 309 

. N. C. Literature, (Editorial,) 477 
Necessity of an addition to the 

College Buildings, (Ed.) 236 

North Carolina, 137 

North Carolina in 1854, (Ed.) 233 

Obituary notices, (Ed.) 335, 336, 431 
On the banks of the Tar, 67 

Our Magazine, (Editorial) 37 

Our Magazine as it is, its objects, 
(Editorial,) 278 

Plagiarism, 72 

Poetical Selections, 35, 01, 115, 167, 
214, 258, 325, 411. 

Random Thoughts, 95 

" Remember the Alamo," 1 7 

Reminiscences of the Revolution 

321, 404 
Respect for Old Age, 110 

Retreat of Gen. Howe from Savan- 
nah, 97, 145 
Reviews and Reviewers, 129 

Revolutionary Services of Gen'l 

Joseph Graham, 433 

Rory Simmons, or the ugly man, 161 

Salutatory, 841 

Slang and other Evils, (Ed.) 329 

Senior speaking of 1854, (Ed.) 231 

Self. Esteem, 3 81 
So you have taken your Bonny 

Bridgegroom, 133 

State of Mind in Sleep, 449 
Stray leaves from my Heart Book, 210 

The Libraries of our Institution, 28, 63 
The Second wife to the First, 
The Homes of the New World— 

Frederika Bremer, 
The Stranger's Grave, 
Trinculo's Adventures, 
The late Judge Murphey, 
The Ruins of Central America — 

A Dream, 
The Magazine, (Editorial) 
The Freshman's Dream, (Ed.) 
The Reciprocal obligations of Edu- 
cated Men and Society, 
The Kind Stranger, 

Uncle Moreau, 

Who claims Originality, 
Willard's Debut in College, 


243 I 









Vol. III. 

FEBRUARY, 1854. 

No. 1. 




Author of Memoirs and Traditions of the Wa/i % in the South. 

Among the numerous brilliant achieve- 
ments of our gallant little Navy, par- 
ticularly in the last war with Great Bri- 
tain, none has excited more interest than 
the cruise of the sloop of war, Wasp ; 
none more anxiety, none more painful 
or acute suspense of feeling, than the 
unknown fate of her commander Capt. 
Blakely, and his associates in honor and 
misfortune — the officers and crew of 
their ill-fated but ever honored ship. — 
At the end of thirty years, since the 
close of their short but brilliant career 
it may be thought, by many at least, 
unnecessary to revive the subject, and 
renew our early impressions of their 
deeds and merits. But Capt. B. had 
many personal friends and admirers, 
some of whom think that justice has 
not been meted to him before the pub- 
lic eye. It may be so — to their acute 
sense of his loss, it ever must be so ! 
Even the eulogies of friendship, cannot 
express the feelings of those who mourn. 
Vol. HL— 31. 

Mr. John Blakely, the father of Capt. 

B. was an Irishman by birth, and is 
said to have arrived in Charleston, S. 

C, in 1783, with his wife and two 
young children, both sons. He remov- 
ed to Wilmington, N. C, in the next 
year, and the best informed now alive, 
agree that he brought none there but 
the subject of this memoir. Some say 
that the mother and infant son died at 

Mr. Blakely was kindly received and 
welcomed by the very hospitable inhabi- 
tants of that city, among the foremost of 
whom was Ed. Jones, Esq. Solicitor Gen- 
eral of the State,who with the genial feel- 
ings of an Irishman, literally took up the 
little Blakely, then almost two years old, 
in his arms, and carried him home to 
his own house. This son, Johnston 
Blakely, was born in October, 1781, at 
Seaford — County Down — Ireland. His 
father settled in business in Wilming- 
ton, and succeeded well in his mercan- 


tile engagements, investing his profits 
in store houses and other buildings. 
He died in 1797, leaving many friends 
warmly attached to him, by his own 
warm, generous disposition, his remark- 
able turn for inoffensive pleasantry, and 
facetious good humor. He left his only 
child Johnston, amply provided for un- 
der Mr. Jones, his guardian and execu- 
tor, the houses affording a regular in- 
come by their rents. In one year after 
his death, this income was entirely cut 
off by a destructive fire, consuming all 
the houses. 

Johnston Blakely had beep sent by 
his father for education to a highly cele- 
brated academy at Flatbush, on Long 
Island, at that time much resorted to by 
young men from the south. When 
sufficiently advanced to enter college, 
he was removed to that of Chapel Hill, 
in North Carolina, in 1796, and was 
successfully pursuing the collegiate 
course of studies, when he suddenly 
lost by fire his whole means of support, 
about two years after his entering col- 

Young Blakely did not hesitate a 
moment; he determined to quit Col- 
lege, and enter the American Navy as 
a profession ; he would not become de- 
pendent on any one at his out set in 
life, not even for the advantages of edu- 
cation. His guardian and friend, Mr. 
Jones, with his excellent lady, united in 
pressing him to make their house his 
home, and accept their aid on any 
terms convenient, or agreeable to his 
feelings. Although in other respects 
he always rendered to them the affec- 
tion and obedience of an own son, he 
would not consent that they should 
make advances for him. With grate- 

ful feelings and acknowledgments, he 
firmly declined their generous offers. — 
The residence of Mr. Jones at Rock-rest 
in Chatham county, continued however 
to be the resort of Blakely when on fur- 
lough in tbe Navy, as it had been pre- 
viously his home in all the College 

Mrs. Harding* of Fayetteville, one 
of Mrs. Jones' daughters, thus writes 
her early recollections of these visits to 
their family: "My own reco' lections of 
Johnston Blakely are very indistinct ? 
but the bright, and at the same time be- 
nevolent expression of his countenance 
made an indelible impression on my 
memory. From these recollections I 
think that he must have be,en very 
handsome, and the exceeding whiteness 
of his teeth, and brightness of his eyes, 
I shall never forget. My mother has 
often described him to us as rather 
small, but well made, with very black 
hair and eyes ; grave and gentlemanly 
in his deportment, but afr the same time 
cheerful and easy when at home. A- 
mong strangers, rather reserved, and 
when very young rather avoiding than 
seeking young society, he would sit 
for hours reading and talking with my 
mother, while the other young people 
were amusing themselves without. It 
was remarked of him, both when a boy 
and a man, that he commanded the re- 
spect and affection of all with whom he 

"My mother corresponded with Mrs. 
Blakely up to the period of her second 
marriage, and with Miss Blakely from 

* To this lady we are indebted for mos 
the incidents and particulars recited in t 
part of our memoir. 


the time she was old enough to write, 
until mother's ill health rendered writ- 
ing extremely troublesome to her. Miss 
B.'s last letter to her was never answer- 
ed ; she left Philadelphia, and we lost 
sight of her, until two or three years 
ago, we observed a notice of her mar- 
riage to Baron Joseph Von Biitton. I 
have written several times, and given 
my letters such directions as I thought 
most likely to find her, but suppose 
none ever reached her. Many of us 
take a lively interest in their welfare : 
his daughter presented her picture to 
my mother, when about thirteen years 
of age; it is still at Rock-rest, but as I 
think it was intended for my brother 
Johnston Blakely Jones, I have written 
to him to receive and take care of it. — 
There is a portrait of Capt. Blakely, in 
the Philanthropic Society's Hall at 
Chapel Hill, laken from an indifferent 
miniature likeness at Rock-rest. Be- 
sides his letters, I believe there are some 
other mementoes of him at this place ; 
his name was on a Beech tree near the 

To Mrs. Harding we are also indebt- 
ed for the following anecdote of Capt. 
Blakely: "In the year 1810, during 
his last visit to our family, he called on 
Dr. Caldwell, President of Chapel Hill 
College, to make, as he said, an apolo- 
gy to the Doctor for having once spoken 
disrespectfully to him, while a student 
under him, at the College. As the cir- 
cumstances may give an insight into 
the characters of both the parties, I will 
endeavor to state them, as Dr. Caldwell 
himself once did. He (Dr. C.) was him- 
self at that time young and inexperi- 
enced in the discipline of a College; 
and in mildly curbing the wayward dis- 

positions of youth. Many of theyoun^ 

Collegians were as wild as college] 

blades generally are, and probably as' 
their fathers had been before them. — 
Some disturbance arose there, and as 
the Doctor was going round to discover 
the cause and the parties engaged in it, 
he opened Blakely's door, and found 
him seated in the window. The Doctor 
questioned him as to the riot and authors 
of it. Blakely answered truly that he 
had nothing to do with it, and could not 
say who the parties were. The Doctor 
replied with irritation and questioned 
his veracity ; Blakely resented the inju- 
ry promptly and ^decidedly, — the Doc- 
tor being still more irritated, threatened 
to throw him out of the window. Blake- 
ly then replied in a mild, but determin. 
ed tone : "I beg, sir, that you will not 
try it, as it will oblige me to put you 
out." The occurrence had left no un- 
favorable impression on the mind of Dr. 
Caldwell, who had, no doubt, reflected 
that he had done Blakely injustice, and 
with mutual concessions they were cor- 
dially reconciled. 

Blakely spoke with regret that the 
College Library was not in its collec- 
tion more select and exclusive. Its ob- 
ject being not only the diffusion of 
knowledge, but instruction in religion 
and morality, the susceptible minds of 
youth may imbibe prepossessions the re- 
verse of these, by reading irreligious and 
licentious books. Young men are sent 
to College, that correct principles should 
be impressed on their tender minds, by 
precept, example, study and reflection ; 
previous to such instruction, exposure to 
immoral lessons, will make impressions 
too deep to be effaced. Blakely partic- 
ularly spoke of having read Paine's Age 


Reason in that Library, and said that 
it had for many years, been very inju- 
rious to him in his duties here, and his 
hopes hereafter. 

Johnston Blakely entered the Navy 
in October, 1800, just as our hostilities 
with France were about to terminate in 
peace. A period of no national excite- 
ment or prospect of active service ensued, 
and for eleven years he led a life of re- 
pose, if not of idleness ; a state of things 
dangerous to the character of the youngs 
and discouraging to the ardent, the am- 
bitious, the patriotic, and well qualified 
officer. Blakely was not idle ; he em- 
braced every opportunity for mental im- 
provement, and for acquiring practical 
knowledge with professional experience. 
lie acquired all that could be taught 
an officer, whose duty is to obey, all 
that was essential and proper in quali- 
fying an officer to command with ur- 
banity, dignity, skill and effect. He 
became a Lieutenant, and commanded 
some of our small cruisers in the Em- 
bargo and Non-intercourse restrictions 
on our own commerce. But he became 
tired of "hope deferred," dissatisfied at 
some deviations from usage in the pro- 
motions, and desponding of ever acquir- 
ino- honor or profit from this line of life. 
He entertained a wish to resign, and 
would certainly have resigned, but for 
the rumors and prospects of a war with 
Great Britain. 

As the history of Johnston Blakely 
up to this period of his life is insepara- 
bly blended with that of Mr. Edward 
Jones and his family, we will here in- 
troduce some account of that family. — 
We read in Bishop Heber's Life of Jere- 
my Taylor, D. D., Bishop of Down &c; 
that lady Wray was his grand daugh- 

ter by his first wife; and of her grand 
children that Mary Wray Todd mar- 
ried Conway Jones, M. D. Among 
their children are William Todd Jones 
a distinguished member of the Parlia- 
ment of Ireland, Edward Jones, then 
Solicitor General of North Carolina, and 
Mrs. Anne DeBerniere, of Charleston, 
South Carolina. Edward Jones came 
out to America, at the close of the Ame- 
rican Revolution, and first settled in 
Philadelphia as a lawyer. There an in- 
timate friendship existed between him 
and the late venerable Mr. Peter S. Du- 
Ponceau, and continued till their death, 
and here he became affianced to the sis- 
ter of Mr. DuPonceau, but her untime- 
ly death prevented their marriage. 

He then removed to North Carolina, 
where hesoon acquired distinction in his 
profession and the high office of Solici- 
tor General, which he retained many 
years, and resigned it from bodily in- 
firmity. Here Mr. Jones married Miss 
Mary Curtis Mallet— neice of Mr. C. 
Mallet — a lady universally respected and 
beloved-»-the parental friend ofJo'n- 
ston Blakely — the teacher and pattern 
of her own distinguished family of chil- 
dren. Among these are Mrs. F. Hoop- 
er, wife of Professor Hooper of the South 
Carolina College; V. M. Jones, Collec- 
tor of the port of Wilmington ; Dr. J. 
B. Jones, an eminent physician of Cha- 
pel Hill; and Mrs. Louisa M. Rencher, 
wife of the Hon. Abram Rencher, our 
Minister at (he Court of Portugal. This 
lady writing to her sisters, describes, in 
the pleasant style of lady Montague, the 
parade and ceremony of the Court at 
Lisbon, and adds : " I did not feel at all 
abashed or confused by the formalities 
of presentation; whether owing to the 


royal blood in my veins, or to the re- 
publican principles in my heart, I do 
not pretend to decide." 

To show the familiar footing which 
subsisted between this family and Capt. 
Blakc-lv, I copy one of his letters to Mrs. 
Jones. v 

U. S. Brig Argus, ) 
New York, Nov. 14, 1808 j 

Dear Madam : *Fanny was right, where 
the silver locks predominate over the 
black, if any colour can be assigned, it 
must be light. But although time may 
whiten my hairs, it will never alter the 
heart which beats in my bosom, and while 
it throbs, its pulsations will ever be diieet- 
ed by affection to her and her little sisters. 
How rapidly time flies ! Next May she 
will be eleven years of age, and five short 
years more will bring her to that time of 
life in which I was when she was born, 
and when her parents wjre the friends 
dearest to me on earth. How fortunate ; 
how truly so, was my choice ; even when 
the grey hairs themselves shall have fal- 
len from my head, my heart shall retain 
the conviction. 

Our cruise has been a various one ; our 
course was first to the river St. Mary, 
where the summer season rendered the 
climate intolerably warm, and the state of 
society made no return for the heat of the 
weather. I spent ten days in Savannah ; 
Julia I did not see ; she had quitted town 
the day after my arrival. Her husband 
returned before our departure, but as I 
had not the pleasure of his acquaintance, 
I did not wait upon him. In this place I 
found 4 or 5 old schoolfellows, whom I 
had known at Flatbush, so many years 
ago, that it completely exposed my age to 
my messmates, with whom I had endeav. 
ored (spite of appearances) to pass for 
sweet two and twenty. Not that I cared 

* Her daughter Frances, now Mrs. F. Hooper. 

for their knowledge of it, but was afraid 
that they would inform the girls of the 
real truth. From Savannah it was expect- 
ed that we would return to Norfolk, and 
again be employed — I mean in cruising — 
but this embargo, (1 could almost swear 
at it to you, who never heard me do so,) 
ordered us to this place to prepare for an- 
other cruise, which has kept us for the last 
three months off the coast of New Eng- 
land, where, by way of compensation for 
the burning sun of Georgia, we have been 
refreshed with bleak north-easters and 
cooling showers of snow. This has af- 
; forded considerable amusement, in keep- 
ing up the circulation of our blood, by 
i blowing our fingers to communicate, if 
j possible, a little heat. It is only since our 
i arrival here, four days ago, that I have 
been able, with the aid of a good warm 
fire, !o restore them to their former feel- 
ing and appearance. Early in September 
we were clad in our warmest apparel. 

We are here waiting for further orders, 
and it is much to be feared, we shall be em- 
ployed all winter in attempting to check 
the spirit of Yankee enterprise, as the 
general opinion here is that the embargo 
will be continued. As to myself, I must 
try to get myself on shore, as I am told 
my liver is .'fleeted, and nothing but a 
course of medicine for two or three months 
can afford a relief. If ordered to sea, I 
shall endeavor to negotiate an exchange 
with some officer on this sation, being the 
only means by which a separation from the 
Brig can be effected. This arrangement 
will enable me to attend to my complaint, 
and at the same time spare me the morti- 
fication of a refusal on application for 
leave of absence ; besides, it will be easi- 
er to obtain a furlough, when my health 
will permit it, from a station on shore 
than from a cruising vessel. I shall leave 
the Brig with reluctance, as I am pleas- 
antly situated on board, and New York — 
from the prejudice of its citizens against 



officers — a disagreeable place for us ; how- 
ever, my constitution demands my atten- 
tion, and as it may enable me to visit you 
I shall be a gieat gainer on the whole. 

I have been, since my arrival here, high- 
ly gratified with the display of Cooper's 
theatrical talents. I wish you could have 
$een him. The celebrated Counsellor Em- 
met, from Ireland, I also sat and listened 
to until late last night. Your determina- 
tion to remain at Rock-rest gives me inex- 
pressible pleasure; that the other idea may 
never again revive is my sincere wish. 

Write without fear, as I have friends 
here instructed to take care of my letters, 
should I be absent. Your caution with 
respect to the two sisters happened too 
late ; a cruise in Boston Bay, in the month 
of October, would cool a passion of more 
fervour than mine. I was an Ass between 
two bundles of hay, and had I been wil- 
ling, neither were disposed to let me Mte 

Remember me to Mr. Jones, and give 
my love to the girls. I beg to continue 
Your friend, 
Signed, J. BLAKELY. 

The declaration of war against Great 
Britain, was an eventful era in the life 
of Capt. Blakely ; he was appointed to 
the command of the favorite brig En- 
terprise, with an efficient company of 
officers and men under him. These he 
diligently and carefully exercised and 
drilled in the discipline of a man of war. 
This was his first and greatest object 01, 
taking command ; a newly enlisted crew 
required it; and his courtesy, firmness, 
exemplary deportment, and nautical ex- 
perience, qualified him peculiarly for 
such a duty. This, and the necessary 
armament, repairs and preparation of 
the vessel, long laid up in ordinary, 
occasioned delays over which dil- 
igence and perseverance ultimate- 
ly triumphed. The Enterprise final- 

ly got to sea about a year after the 
declaration of war, and although con- 
sidered in the Navy a very fortunate 
vessel, because well commanded, and 
with a crew in the highest discipline — 
of course very ably worked — yet she 
proved to be a heavy, dull sailer. — 
When cruising first against the French? 
and then against the Tripolitans, rigged 
as a schooner, she sailed admirably, but 
when altered into a brig, whether her 
trim was changed or her spars badly 
proportioned, or from so me other cause, 
she certainly did not perform well from 
that time. We find published, howev- 
er, the following letter from Captain 
Blakely to Captain Hull, dated U. S. 
Brig Enterprise, Portsmouth, N. H. 
August 20th, 1813. 
Sir : I have the honor to report to you 
the capture of the British privateer schoon- 
er "The Fly." She was captured yester- 
day afternoon off Cape Porpoise, after a 
chase of 8 hours. 

Very respectfully, 
Signed, J. BLAKELY. 

This we believe to be the very date 
of his new commission as commander — 
the first that we see of it is in Niles' 
Register of the 21st September, 1813- 
Shortly after the above capture, Capt. 
Blakely was transferred to the com- 
mand of the new sloop of war,Wasp,then 
buildingat Newberryport, on the Merri- 
mack river, intended by our govern- 
ment to supply the place of the old 
Wasp, which when commanded by 
Capt. Jones,- had captured the Frolic, 
and was immediately afterwards herself 
captured by the Poictiers, 74. 

Sixteen days after the date of Capt. 
Blakely's letter, the Enterprise, under 
the command of Capt. Burrows, engag- 
ed and captured the British brig Boxer, 


Capt. Blythe, of about equal force, al- 
though certainly carrying two guns more 
than the Enterprize. Without detract- 
ing from the great merit, character, and 
conduct of Capt. Burrows and his offi- 
cers, much credit has been given by 
nautical men to Capt. Blakely, for the 
high state of discipline established by 
him and maintained on board the En- 

Capt. Blakely continued on shore all 
the next winter and spring to superin- 
tend the building, rigging and equip- 
ment of the Wasp ; eu.istingand train- 
ing her men, and preparing for a cruise 
as early as possible. She was launched 
about the 20th of September, 1813, and 
Lt. Tillinghast soon joined his former 
commander, much to the satisfaction of 
both parties. About the middle of 
April, 1814, Capt. Blakely married, in 
Bostc", Miss Jane Ann Hoope, daugh- 
ter o f Mr. Hoope, formerly a merchant 
of New York — a friend and correspon- 
dent of his father when also engaged in 
mercantile business. A daughter was 
the fruit of this marriage, and she was 
named Udney Maria Blakely. Before 
she was two years old, and the unhappy 
fate of her father, too well known — the 
Legislature of North Carolina, on a mo- 
tion brought forward by Judge Mur- 
phy, resolved unanimously, on the 27th 
December, 1816, "That Capt. Blake- 
ly's child be educated at the ex- 
pense of the State," and until she was 
14 years of age her mother regularly 
drew $600 per annum, for that purpose. 
The widow of Capt. Blakely, about this 
time married a second husband, Dr. 
Abbot, of Santa Cruz, and removed 
there with him. Here they lived in 
easy circumstances, and had several 

children, but Dr. Abbot is now dead, 
and his lady is again a widow. Her 
daughter, Miss Blakely, removed with 
her mother to Santa Cruz, and there 
married, early in the year 1841, when 
about 26 years of age, to Baron Von 
Briton, a gentleman of that Island, but 
unfortunately died, about 12 months 
after her marriage, in childbed. A por- 
trait of her hangs in her mother's hall, 
and is the only memorial left there. — 
Her portrait also, is in the possession of 
Dr. Jones, at Chapel Hdl, in North 
Carolina — but the race of Johnston 
Blakely is extinct. 

On the 1st of May, 1814, Capt. Blake- 
ly sailed in the sloop of war Wasp from 
Portmouth, N. H., at 4 o'clock, P. M., 
with a crew of 179, officers, men and 
boys, all included. Many of the crew 
had never been at sea, and veiy kw of 
them had ever been in action. The 
Wasp was rated at 18 guns, but carried 
.22 ; she sailed well, affording the most 
favorable presages of her future perform- 
ances, and arrived at her station, in 
the Chops of the British Channel, on 
the first of Juue. Here Capt. Blakely 
continued to cruise between Landsend 
in England, and Ushent in France. He 
captured 13 British Merchant men, be- 
sides the two sloops of War — the Rein- 
deer ?»nd the Avon. All these prizes 
he either sunk or blew up, according to 
the nature of thear cargoes, except the 
last — the Atalanta, which was sent in- 
to Savannah- Capt. Blakely \s official 
reports of his engagements with these 
two sloops of War, are published in ail 
the American papers — recorded in all the 
annals — constitute an important art in 
our country's history, and afford .some 
i of the brightest pages in the warfare of 


our navy and nation ; they need not be 
recited here. The details of his other , 
captures in the cruise need not be stated 
by us, they may be seen in Niles' Re- 
gister for the year 1814. 

Capt. Cooper in his Naval History, 
speaking of the action between the 
Wasp and Reindeer makes the follow- 
ing observations : "It is difficult to say 
which vessel behaved the best in this 
short, but gallant combat. The officers- 
and people of the Wasp discovered the 
the utmost steadiness, cool activity, and 
admirable discipline. For eleven min- 
utes they bore the fire of a twelve 
pounder that was discharging round 
and grape-shot, at distances varying 
from 60 to 30 yards, with a subordina- 
tion and quiet that could not possibly 
be surpassed ; and when it did com- 
mence, their own fire was terrible. The 
attempts to carry their ship were repul- 
sed with ease and coolness,and when the 
order to go on board the enemy was re- 
ceived, it was obeyed with decision and 
promptitude. Throughout the whole 
affair, the ship was conspicuous for the 
qualities that most denote a perfect 
maiy-of-war, and the results of her ef- 
forts were is proportion. It is believed 
thai the Wasp had an unusual number 
of men on board of her, who were now 
Ht sea for the first time." 

On the other hand, the attack of the 
Rfcindeer has usually been considered 
the most eredhable to the enemy of any 
that occurred in this war. The mode 
in which he, (Capt. Manners,) engaged, 
was exceedingly officer-like, and when 
b^" discovered the hopelessness of con- 
tending against the fire, to which he 
found himself so suddenly and unex- 
pectedly exposed, the decision and gal- 

lantry with which he attempted to re- 
trieve the da} 7 , was of the highest order 
of military and personal merit. • It is 
understood that the enemy had en- 
deavored to persuade himself, that the 
Chesapeake had been captured by his 
superior prowess in hand to hand con- 
flicts; a delusion so general in Great 
Britain, as has been already stated, that 
it has frequently led their officers into 
serious difficulties in America, and it is 
possible that the Commander of the 
Reindeer, may have believed his crew, 
which is said to have been better than 
common, able to carry the Wasp in 
this manner. The result showed the 
difference between a crew that was well 
commanded, and one that had no lead- 
ers, (as the Chesapeake when boarded,} 
but in no degree detracts from the me- 
rit of the English officer, whose person- 
al deportment in this affair is described 
as having been worthy of all praise. — 
Capt. Manners received three wounds 
before the attempt to board, one shot 
having nearly carried away the calves 
of both legs. In endeavoring to board, 
he sprang into the rigging of his own 
vessel, when he was struck on the up- 
per part of his head by two musket 
balls which passed through to the chin. 
Flourishing his sword he fell dead on. 
his oivn deck. Capt. William Manners- 
was an elegant and accomplished gen- 
tleman, in the prime of life — of daring 
enterprise, and chivalric courage. He 
was connected with one of the first 
families in Great Britain, of which the 
Duke of Rutland is the head, son of 
Lord Robert Manners, and of course re- 
lated to the Hon. Manners who 

married the oldest daughter of Dr. Ben- 
jamin Rush, of Philadelphia, one of the 


signers of the Declaration of American 
Independence. All that could be effect- 
ed by the bravery and skill of a Com- 
mander, was attempted by Capt. Man- 
ners, and his exertions never ceased but 
with his life. 

How deadly is the contest when gallant foe- 
men meet! 

Their death-bell is the cannon's roar, the wave 
their winding sheet. 

The following extract is from the Bos- 
ton Patriot : 

" It may be recollected that in the en- 
gagement'between the United States ship 
Wasp and the British brig of War Rein- 
deer, two officers on board the American 
vessel were stated to have been danger- 
ously wounded, viz : Henry S. Langdon ; 
Jr., and Prank Toscan, Midshipmen of 
Portsmouth, N. H. They have both since 
died of their wounds. The following par- 
ticulars concerning the former of these 
young gentlemen, is in a letter from an 
officer of the Wasp : 

He was stationed in the fore-top, and 
there commanded a body of # marines, 
from whose musketry the enemy suffered 
severely during the engagement, as they 
themselves acknowledged. About the 
middle of the action, the Reindeer shot 
athwart the Wasp's bows, so that the 
foretopsail of the latter was in the way of 
her own men, and prevented the effect of 
their fire. Unwilling thus to seek respite 
from danger, or that the enemy should 
profit by their inaction, the men, cheered 
by hit example, swung themselves upon 
the foreyard, and presenting their muskets 
under the loietopsai], poured a deadly 
and destructive fire upon the Reindeer's 
deck. In this hazardous situation he re- 
ceived a musket ball in the breast, which 
proved to be mortal, but it did not then 
deter him from duty; he refused to be 
taken on deck, or to quit his post, until 
the action was over ; and with a veteran 

composure to the last, continued encour- 
aging his men to keep cool, and take good 

He lingered until the arrival of the 
Wasp at L'Orient, and there laid down, 
for his beloved country, a life which, if 
spared, would have been devoted to her 

On board the Wasp were killed five ; 
wounded twenty-one; total twenty-six. — 
On the Reindeer were killed twenty-three; 
wounded forty-two ; total sixty-five." 

The Wasp having been completely 
repaired, Captain Blakely sailed from 
L'Orient on the 27th August, 1814, 
and on the 30th, 31st, and 1st Septem- 
ber, captured and destroyed a brig each 
day. The last of these was cut out of 
a Convoy in charge of the Armada, 74, 
and a Bomb-ketch. She was exceed- 
ingly valuable to either of the belliger- 
ents, being laden with brass and iron 
cannons, naval and military stores, and 
materials of every descripti ;n for the 
equipments then in progress by the 
British government, against the south- 
ern States. To burn or sink her was 
the only certain way to secure this ad- 
vantage over the British ; she would 
probably have been retaken, if ordered 
to the United States — these three brigs 
were included in the number of mer- 
chantmen previously mentioned. 

On the 1st of September, also, after 
having been chased out of the Convoy 
by the 74, he fell in with several vessels 
in sight at the same time, three of which 
were sloops of war, and evidently con- 
federates. He engaged and sunk one 
of them, but the other two coming up, 
he could not take possession of his prize. 
(See Niles' Register, Dec. 3d, 1814.) 

Capt. Blakely bestows the highest 
commendations on his officers and men 



for their conduct in both these actions. 
He particularly notices the fact, that his 
Lieuts. Reily and Bauiy, had been con- 
spicuous in capturing the Guerriere and 
the Java, and had now triumphed in 
four naval engagements over the enemy. 
Also that his 2d Lieut. Tillinghast, hav- 
ing distinguished himself in the Enter- 
prise, when she captured the Boxer, had 
been three times victorious. The prize 
proved to be the Avon, one of the larg- 
est sloops of war in the British Navy ; 
her balls weighing each 3-4 lb. more than 
any in the Wasp. Her commander, 
the Hon. J. Arbuthnot, was severely 
wounded in the action. Her comrades 
were the sloops of war Castilian, Lieut. 
Lloyd, and the Tartarus. 

On board the Wasp were killed, 2 ; 
wounded, 1 ; total, 3. On board the 
Avon, killed and wounded from 40 
to 50. 

After this action the Wasp shaped 
her course southwardly, and on the 21st 
September^ 1814, thirty miles to the 
eastward of Porto Santo, one of the 
Madeira Islands, captured the Atalanta.* 
This vessel being a fast sailer, with a 
valuable cargo, was ordered into Savan- 
nah by Capt. Blakely, under his oldest 
midshipmen, now Capt. D. Geisenger ; 
and arrived safe, notwithstanding the 
blockade. Part of her prize crew were 
put on board the Epervier, then in the 

* The widow of Capt. Blakely received from 
government in her own right, and as guardian 
of his child, for the capture of these tw° sloops, 
the sum of $7,500. 

Also, one year's pay advanced, June 28th, 
1816, $900. 

Also, his share of the prize Atalanta, exclusive 
of their maintenance during the previous two 
years, from his pay or wages. 

port of Savannah, and lost in her when 
returning with despatches, on the ter- 
mination of our war with the Barbary 
powers. Capt. David Gefsienger, is 
probably the only survivor of all the 
Wasp's gallant and honored crew. 

The Legislature of North Carolina 
voted that a superb sword appropriate- 
ly adorned, be presented to Captain J. 
Blakely of the Wasp sloop of war, for 
the destruction of two of the enemy's 
vessels of equal force — which deeds, 
sajrs the resolution, — "reflected honor 
upon North Carolina, in being perform- 
ed by one of her sons." 

Of the Hon. J. Arbuthnot, we only 
know that commanders of his name 
have long been distinguishe I in the Brit- 
ish Navy. Among them, Admiral Mar- 
riot Arbuthnot, commanded the fleet 
which co-operated with Sir Henry Clin- 
ton, in the seige and capture of Charles- 
ton, in the American Revolution. The 
bravery and good conduct displayed by 
Capt. Aybuthnot, in his engagement 
with the Wasp, secured to him the ap- 
probation of the Admiralty, and the 
confidence of his country. He never 
recovered perfectly from his wounds, 
and died in Madeira, a year or two after, 
from its effects, but there is still in the 
British Navy a Capt. Al. Arbuthnot, of 
high standing. 

Lieut. Thomas Tillinghast was born 
in Columbia, in South Carolina, where 
his parents settled soon after it was 
established as the seat of government. 
His father, Dr. Tillinghast, and his 
mother, were both natives of Rhode 
Island, and had several other children. 
His father d ; ed at an early age, while 
Thomas was yet a child ; and his moth, 
er married Dr. Sara'l Green, by whom 



slio also had several children. The two 
families lived very happily together and 
every attention was paid, equally, to the 
education and welfare of both. Thom- 
as completed his course of studies in 
the college of South Carolina, and wish- 
ing to enter the Navy, Dr. Green ob- 
tained for him a warrant under which 
he commenced his duties afloat. One 
of the young officers wishing to try 
him, or make him ridiculous, told him 
that the Captain had ordered him to 
unstop the mainmast and have the foot 
of it. scrubbed. Young Tillinghast im- 
mediately discovered the trick and sent 
a challenge to the offender; an apology 
ensued ; the parties were good friends 
after it, and no more tricks were played. 
All of the two families are now dead. 

Capt. Blakely continued on a south- 
wardly course, and on the 9th October, 
boarded the Swedish brig. Adonis, in 
Lat. 18° 35', Long. 30° 10', bound 
from Rio de Janeiro to Falmouth and 
received from her two of Capt. Porter's 
officers, Lieut. S. D. McKnight, and 
master's mate Jas. Lyman, who, after 
the capture of the Essex, crossed the con- 
tinent, and were returning passengers in 
the Adonis. This was about 18 days after 
taking the Atalanta,being now 900 miles 
further south and 600 further west, Cap- 
tain Cooper observes ; " it is probable 
that Capt.B. intended running down to- 
wards the Spanish main, and passing 
through the West Indies, in order to go 
into a southern Port, according to his 
orders." Supposing these orders to 
have been ascertained from the Navy 
Department, we do not doubt that 
Capt. B.'s course was westward until he 
leached the windward Island, and be- 
lieve that he was subsequently spoken 
off Turk's Island early in November. 

We do not pretend that evidence ex- 
ists of what we shall add respecting the 
course and fate of the Wasp, but believe 
it highly probable from the concurrence 
of the different reports from differ 
ent persons, none of whom knew 
anything of the orders received, or 
of the probable place and destination 
of the Wasp. On the contrary, most 
persons believed that she had put into 
some neutral or friendly port fcr a refit, 
after sinking the Avon, and would then 
return to cruise against the Commerce 
and Navy of Great Britain at their very 

In Niles' Register of January 28th, 
1815, we find the following: ''A brig 
is reported to have arrived at a south- 
ern port, that fell in with the United 
States sloop Wasp off Turk's Island, thir- 
ty-five days since — all well — but no par- 
ticulars stated." 

In a Savannah paper of the lYth 
November, 1814, we also find : "Let- 
ters were received last evening from the 
South, dated the 14th, which state that 
the United States ship Wasp, J. Blake- 
ly, Esq. Commander, four days since, 
(about the 10th,) boarded a neutral ves- 
sel bound to Amelia Island, at which 
time the Wasp was in the act of setting 
fire to an English vessel." 

On the 14th, the same paper states, 
that "the Wasp is said to have attempt- 
ed to get into Tybee, the day before 
yesterday, (the 12th,) but was chased 
off by the Lacedemonian frigate, there 
being no Pilot to bring her in." 

On the 20th, (Sunday evening,) the 
Charleston Pilots reported a British 
frigate, supposed to be the Lacedemo- 
nian, off their Lighthouse at sunset, 
with two schooners, probably prizesrS- 
On the 23d, Capt. Anone. of the Cinde- 



rella from Savannah, reported that he 
saw the Lacedemonian in company with 
the Dotterel, off Tybee, on the 20th or 
21st, the same time, with the. "English 
frigate" reported off Charleston. 

The three Charleston papers concur 
in stating that a heavy firing was heard 
there on Monday the 21st. It lasted 
from 10 o'clock in the morning until 
after 12 ; no doubt a naval engagement, 
a little to the south of the Bar ; the re- 
sult not known when the papers went 
to press. 

November 24th, they say : 

" Capt. Parker, of the three masted boat 
Beaufort Packet, heard the firing on Mon- 
day about fifteen miles from the sea, and 
believes it to have been an engagement 
between two heavy vessels. A boat which 
came up from the sea-board informs that 
they saw the action, and that it was be- 
tween two ships; that they were sailing 
off from the coast, and continued fighting 
until out of sight." 

The evening paper, "the Times" con- 
curs in substance with the above para- 
graphs from the two morning papers. — 
The following is an extract of a letter 
from the Hon. Whitemarsh B. Sea- 
brook, dated 27th June, 1844 : 

" At the time of the occurrence, (the 
firing off Edisto Island on the 21st No- 
vember, 1814,) I had just crossed the 
Edisto Ferry, on my way, I think, to 
Columbia. The day was calm, and the 
firing heavy, and obviously very near. It 
was evident that two vessels of unequal 
size were engaged, and the gradual dimin- 
ishing sound of their broadsides showed 
that it was a running fight, and that they 
were opposite to each other. Shortly af- 
terwards in conversation with a gentle- 
man of St. Helena, whose name has es- 
caped me, he stattd that two negroes who 

were on Coffin's Island, the most eastern 
of the Hunting Islands, when the engage- 
ment took place, informed, that one of 
the vessels was much larger than the oili- 
er, and that while they continued in sight 
they were very Dear each other. It farth- 
er appears from the representation of 
these negroes, that the engagement com- 
menced off the eastern end of Coffin's Is- 
land, and that the vessels, during the 
fight, steered about southeast. 

Two or three days before the event al- 
luded to, it was reported that the Wasp 
had been seen off Savannah bar, and 
about three months afterwards, I well re 
member reading in a newspaper, that a 
British frigate, stationed off this coast, 
had not been heard of for a long time. I 
then came to the conclusion, without how- 
ever any other data than those so briefly 
related, that the fight was between the 
Wasp and the missing frigate, and that 
both were sunk by the accidental or de- 
signed explosion of the magazine of the 
former ; at least such has always been the 
impression on my mind. Blakely was a 
daring and chivalrous Commander ; had 
been victorious in two engagements, and 
was not likely to surrender to an enemy 
unless greatly his superior. 

Respectfully yours, &c, 

(Signed) W. B. SEABROOK." 

Mr. Benjamin Freeman of Wadme- 
law Island, informs me that he and his 
brother James were both on the Island 
at that time, but on different parts of it. 
That they both heard the cannonade so 
distinctly that their windows rattled at 
each discharge, and that they often 
spoke of it, not doubting of there be- 
ing a naval engagement, on the coast' 
but neither of them saw the vessels en- 
gaged, as intervening woods prevented 
it. They also agree that the action 
commenced north-east of them, not far 
from Stono Inlet, and was continued, 



running southward an hour or more, 
and then appeared to be going off the 
shore, the sounds becoming less and 
less distinct. 

The belief was almost universal among 
those who heard the firing, that it was 
a naval engagement, a little south of 
Charleston, and all its inhabitants heard 
it. But day after day and month after 
month, passed over; nothing more was* 
said of the battle. The Lacedemonian 
had not been engaged, and no other 
frigate had been named on this station. 
Other battles ensued and were discuss- 
ed, but this ceased to be spoken of, and 
was forgotten by many. After so great 
; lapse of time the facts cannot be as- 
certained with more minuteness than 
the above imperfect statement. We 
reraeniber this firing perfectly and 
were firmly impressed with a belief that 
this was a naval engagement, and that 
the Wasp was one of the vessels then 

About a year after this excitement 
the following publication appeared in 
the Weekly Museum of the 23d Dec, 
1815. From the Norfolk Beacon, 13th 
December, 1815. 


Notwithstanding the reports which we 
have heretofore published, a conversation 
with an officer of the first standing and 
respectability in the Navy, permits us to 
entertain no doubts of the loss of the U. 
S. sloop of war Wasp, and that her end 
was as glorious as her cruise had been 

All readers of newspapers must recol- 
lect, that about a year ago there was an 
account of a British frigate putting into 
Cadiz, much cut to pieces, and 100 men 
killed and mounded, reporting her having 
had an engagement with a large American 

frigate off that port. It was known at 
the time we had no frigate in that quarter, 
and that the Wasp was believed to be 
cruising in that neighborhood; but little 
was said or thought about it at that time, as 
the report was not generally credited. We 
now learn from a source which cannot be 
doubted, that there was an action between 
a British frigate of the largest class, and 
an American ship, and that it was un- 
doubtedly the Wasp. Lt. Conkling, who 
commanded the schooner Ohio, one of 
Com. Sinclair's squadron, on Lake Erie, 
and who was captured in August, 1814, 
off Fort Erie, and sent to England, had 
lately reported himself to his commanding 
officer, to whom it appears he related hav- 
ing met with one of the Lieutenants on 
board the above mentioned frigate, and 
was informed by him that the ship they 
engaged was not a frigate, as was stated, 
and that her commander, as well as every 
person on board, could see by her battle 
lanterns being lighted, and from the flash- 
es of her guns, that she was a corvette 
ship, mounting 22 guns; and that they 
themselves believed it was no other than 
t K e Wasp ; but after being so gallantly 
beaten off, and having suffered so severely, 
they were reluctant to acknowledge how 
inferior the force had been, which inflict- 
ed such severe chastisement on them. — 
It appears by the Lieutenant's own ac- 
counts, that the action lasted several hours; 
that the frigate sheered off to refit, in- 
tending to renew the action at day light, 
which was not far off, if circumstances 
would admit it, but at its earliest dawn 
there was no vestige of their gallant ene- 
my. From the crippled state of the ships, 
and the short time intervening between 
their separating and daylight, the Lieuten- 
ant believed it impossible that they could 
have been out of sight, had their oppo- 
nents been above water. 

The above account essentially coincide? 
with the opinions of the best informed 



naval men about the seat of government, 
who generally agree in the belief that the 
Wasp was the vessel engaged with the 
British frigate above alluded to.* 

To this statement it may be observed, 
that the Wasp certainly was not at that 
time any where near the offing of Ca- 
diz; and there must be some inaccura- 
cy or omission in the accounts. The 
name of the British frigate is hot given ; 
nor that of any one of the officers ; nor 
the time and place of the engagement. 
The following publication also appears 
to contradict the alleged statement, and 
to render the subject more and more 


To the Editors of the Mercury. — 
Pittsburg, January 2d, 1816.—" Lt. Conk- 
ling begs leave through the medium of 
your paper to contradict a publication in 
which his name is made use of, relative to 
an action between a British frigate, and 
the U. S. sloop of war Wasp, and author- 
ises you to state that the report of his 
having had a conversation with a British 
Lieutenant on the subject is entirely un- 

To this we beg leave to offer expla- 
nations which appear plausible, if not 

* Capt. Aulick, now in command of the Na- 
vy yard at Washington, states : " That some 
years ago an officer of our Navy, who was a 
prisoner in England at the close of the late 
war, (he thinks had belonged to the brig Siren, 
told him that he there saw and conversed with 
a British officer, who said that the frigate in 
which he had been then recently cruising, had 
had a night action with a vessel which he took to 
be a sloop of War, though his Captain maintain- 
ed she was a frigate. That this vessel suddenly 
disappeared in the darkness of the night, and 
that they on board the frigate believed she had 

This American Officer may have been Lieut. 
Conkling or some other officer ; in either case, 
it is a confirmation of the statement made by Lt. 
Conkling and published in the Norfolk Beacon. 
The Wasp had been ordered to return into a 
Southern Port. She had ordered her prize 
Ataknta into Savannah— a Southern Port— had 

probable. We consider the card of 
Lieut. Conkling a denial only of his 
having received the statement from a 
"British Lieutenant;" he does not ap- 
pear to deny that he stated to " his 
commanding officer" the particulars of 
the Wasp's last engagement, or of the 
publication being substantially true. — 
He appears, therefore, to confirm all 
that we care to know of the last action 
and fate of the Wasp. He contradicts 
the statement of his having received the 
information from a Lieutenant, but doe s 
not say he did not receive it from a 
midshipman — the Purser, the sailing 
master, clerk or any other person of re- 
spectability, whom he believed. He 
may have wished to suppress the publi- 
cation, and screen a friend in the Bri- 
tish Navy from the consequences of ex- 
posing the secrets of the admiralty. He 
may have deemed it important f ><• the 
Department in Washington to be in- 
formed of the facts which ho had learn- 
ed confidentially ; and therefore told his 
Commander, that he might communis 
cate the substance of it to the Navy 
Department. We believe the statement 
to be substantially true, and that even 

been reported on that coast and was endeavor- 
ing to enter that Port on the 12th November, 
1814, but was chased off by the Lacedemonian 
frigate. Eight days after that chase commenc- 
ed, a different frigate is seen off the Charleston 
Lighthouse, and nine days after it — on the 21st 
November,a naval engagement was there heard 
by thousands, and seen at St. Helena's Inlet, be- 
tween two ships of War, one larger than the 
other, both sailing eastwardly. From that day 
nothing is reported definitely of either ship, no- 
thing more seen of them on the American 
coast. An English frigate was said to be miss- 
ing from the southern coast ; the Wasp certainly 
was missing f rom that coast and no other could 
therefore have beat oft this first rate British 
frigate but the Wasp. The Wasp was the only 
ship of the American Navy missing.. The ac- 
tion could only have occurred on tne<$outhorn 
coast, where the Wasp certainly was at that 



the differences may be reconciled with 
our facts. 

The}' say that the engagement was 
" off Cadez," but do not say how far off, 
and we shosv that the Wasp was on 
our own coast engaged with a frigate 
about twenty miles South of Charleston 
Light, which frigate on the night before 
the action, was seen at the Lighthouse. 
They say that the engagement, or that 
part of it, when they sheered off , was at 
night ; and we know that it commenced 
about 10 o'clock in the morning; was 
a running fight-— both ships steering 
eastwardly; and believe that it was 
continued in this way until dark — at- 
least eight hours, before the British 
frigate sheered off. That running east- 
wardly at least eight hours, they had 
reached the Gulf stream before the ac- 
tion ceased. We therefore believe tha c 
the Wasp having beat off her ad versa" 
ry after dark, sank shortly after in the 
Gulf stream. That the spars and other 
matters floating from a wreck, were 
hurried forward by that stream from 
the American coast, to that central por- 
tion of the Atlantic, in which are col. 
lected the Gulf weed and other drifting 
matters, brought together by the con- 
flicting currents of that ocean.* 

That the Captain of the British frig- 
ate finding himself in the Gulf stream, 
with southwardly winds,* a crippled 

*That portion of the Atlantic between Ber- 
mudas, the Canaries and Madeira, called the 
Sargasso Sea, in which all such drifting matters 
subside, inerusted with shells and intermixed 
with earth— hereafter to raise up another Is- 
land Atalantis. 

t That fair winds and weather prevailed un- 
til the 18th December, I prove by the Journal 
of the Medical Society— aided by the Gulf 
Stream, 28 days of such weather would bring 
him to Cadiz. 

ship and a reduced crew, determined to 
continue in the stream, to profit by its 
drift as long as the winds favored him, 
and' not to seek the nearest Port in 
Bermudas as might have been expect- 
ed. Southerly and westerly winds con. 
tinued, he probably had a good passage 
across the Atlantic, and arrived in Ca- 
diz, not wishing to be seen by John 
Bull in that awkward plight, lest too 
many questions should be asked. It 
has since been ascertained that this 
frigate was the Horatio, rated in the 
Navy list a 44 Gun Ship. 

We subjoin a chart of the real and 
supposed course of both vessels, for the 
inspection of our readers, and for their 
reflection on the various points of doubt, 
misconception and misstatement ; pre- 
mising that our minds were not made 
up, until after such inspection and 
study. We therefore recapitulate that 
the Wasp after speaking the Swedish 
brig Adonis, in Lat. 18° 35', proceeded 
westward, running down the trades to 
the windward Islands, then turned 
northward and was first reported off 
Turk's Island, about the 1st November 
then off Amelia Island on the south side 
of St. Mary's River about the 10th of 
November, then off Tybee, the entrance 
to Savannah River on the 12th, there 
meeting with the frigate Lacedemonian 
she was chased off, but having escaped 
from her enemy, she again tried to obey 
her orders and get into a southern port. 
That she made land about midway be- 
tween Port Royal and Charleston, on 
the morning of 21st, aiming to reach 
the latter Port, but was cut off from it 
by the frigate, seen by the Pilots off our 
Lighthouse on the evening before, about 
ten or seventeen hours before the ac- 



tion commenced. That the Lacedemo- 
nian had returned from her unsuccess- 
ful chase, and was seen off Tybee at 
that time by Oapt. Anone. That the 
unknown frigate ran off the coast, while 
fighting with the Wasp, and 'had shap- 
ed his course for Europe, when the ac- 
tion was over which had spoiled his 
cruise, and was consequently " missing" 
on the southern coast, as had been an- 
nounced in the papers and seen by Mr. 

When Capt. Blakely arrived on the 
southern coast, he had been at sea three 
months, and was probably short of pro- 
visions and water. He probably had 
prisoners on board, taken from different 
vessels captured and destroyed like that 
off Amelia, the names and number of 
which can never be known. For many 
reasons he was anxious to reach his 
destined port, then almost "in view." 

" Returning home in triumph, freight- 
ed with wealth, and honors bravely 
won ;"* his feelings all alive to the an- 
ticipated honors from his countvy, — the 
cordial welcome of his friends, and the 
fond endearments of his family ; his of- 
ficers and crew partaking in all these 
exciting motives, having unbounded 

* Capt. Geisinger informs us that while he 
was on board of the Wasp, they were in the 
habit of taking from the captured vessels, what- 
ever was considered most valuable before they 
were destroyed. The ship was soon filled with 
packages of broadcloths, linens, silks, fee- 
When the next prize was examined,other articles 
would be found more valuable than these, and 
dry goods were thrown overboard without hesi- 
tation to make room for laces, cashmeres, 
watches, jewelry and ready money. Chronom- 
eters and other nautical instruments were no 
doubt very plenty and cheap on board the Wasp. 
We may even imagine one of her sprightly 
midshipmen, sporting a gold watch or two, and 
with gold rings on his fingers, throwing his bed 
and blanket out at a port hole, that he might 
sleep on broadcloths, cover with silks and cash- 
meres, and rest his head on a pillow of laces. 

confidence in their Commander, them- 
selves, and their ship, encouraged him 
and each other when attacked by the 
frigate, to make a desperat ■• resistance, 
relying on the fortunes of war, and th • 
many means and chances for escape ; 
great indeed were their exertions, un- 
paralleled their daring and achieve- 
ments ! — glorious their end ! ! They 
defended their little ship in a combat of 
at least eight hours duration, against a 
British frigate of more than twice their 
own force and compelled her to sheer 
off ; — they beat off the British frigate ! 
they beat a " British frigate of the larg- 
est class" and exulting in their victory; 
the third victory obtained in one cruise! 
the greatest victory ever won over a 
British man-of-war! amidst their cor- 
dial congratulations — their loud huzzas 
— their tumultuous joy — they sink to 
eternal rest. 

No more shall Blakely's thunders roar 

Upon the stormy deep ; 
Far distant from Columbia's shore 

His tombless ruins sleep ; 
But long Columbia's song shall tell 
How Blakely fought, how Blakely fell. 

Though long our foaming billows cast, 

The battle's fury brav'd ; 
And still unsullied on thy mast 

The starry banner wav'd . 
Unconquer'd will Columbia be 
While she can boast of sons like thee. 

O sleep— the battle's rage no more 

Shall animate thy breast ; 
No sound on Lethe's silent shore 

Disturbs the warrior's rest ; 
No wave molests its peaceful tide, 
No navies on its waters ride. 

Nor will the muse refuse a tear 

O'er Riely's* corse to flow, 
Or one less gen'rous and sincere 

On Tillinghastt bestow ; 
Farewell ! no warlike sound again 
Can rouse you irom the wat'ry main. 

* First Lieutenant, 
f Second " 




The history of the Texan Revolution 
is replete with incidents of heroism, ro- 
mance and cruelty. Indeed, many of 
them seem more suited to the days ot 
chivalry than to the nineteenth century. 
Of the characters that figured in that 
noble effort for civil liberty, North Car- 
olina furnished a d.:e proportion; and 
none displayed a spirit of more deter- 
mined bravery, ready self-denial and 
disinterested devotion to the cause of 
liberty, than her sons. Their names as 
well as their deeds now find a place on- 
ly in the memory and stories of the 
squatter and hunter — the. companions 
of the heroes of that war. 

The subject of this fragment was 
born and bred within one hundred miles 
of this place. Endowed with a fine 
mind, which unfortunately was never 
cultivated, a noble heart and a fearless, 
adventurous and roving disposition, at 
an early age he left the home of his 
childhood, induced, partly by domestic 
misfortune, chiefly by inclination, and 
sought in the wilds of the Far West, a life 
more congenial with bis nature. From 
this time few incidents of his life are 
known, and they would probably have 
been lost, had not the Texan Revolu- 
tion called him from his unnatural soli- 

The spring of the year 1836, when 
the feelings of the civilized world were 
shock d by the inhuman massacres of 
Vol. III.— 22. 

hundreds of those unfortunate soldiers, 
who fell into the hands of the Mexicans, 
when the blood of many of our own 
citizens enlisted in the Texan cause, ap- 
pealed to Heaven for vengeance on 
Santa Anna, the bloody executioner of 
helpless prisoners, — the spring of this 
year found our hero with the army of 
Houston, retiring before the Mexican 
army towards the American border. — 
The Texan army was vastly inferior in 
numbers to the Mexican ; the latter, 
flushed with the success which had re- 
cently attended this superiority, (for 
lately had the Alamo and Goliad fal- 
len,) the former depressed in spirits by 
their terrible misfortunes, yet borne up 
by the righteousness of their cause, and 
firm from despair. Ranking himself 
under no particular officer, he accompa- 
nied the a»-my, intending to offer his 
services whenever and wherever they 
would be most needed. 

An opportunity of gratifying his de- 
sire to avenge the blood of the martyrs 
in the Texan cause was not long want- 
ing. The two armies were drawn up 
in front of each other on the San Ja- 
cinto river.* On the day of the memo- 
rable battle of San Jacinto, chance pla- 
ced our hero among the Texan cavalry. 

At the signal for the attack, the caval- 
ry charged up to the lines of the enemy 
and poured afearful volley into their deep 
rmks. The engagement immediately 



became general. The battle raged fear- 
u ly, but Mexican confidence was une- 
qual to Texan desperation. The former 
were repeatedly driven from the field, 
but were rallied by officers worthy of a 
better cause. They withstood the hav- 
oc of the Texan arras, but when they 
heard the fearful war-cry, rising above 
the roar of the artillery and the rattle 

the rifles — '■'■Remember the' Alamo" — 
they instantly broke and fkd, nor were 
their officers able to check their flight. 

Santa Anna, who was meanwhile en- 
quietly his accustomed siesta, 
thought at fir.>t that it was but a skir- 
mish that was going on ; nor would he 
believe that the Texans were rash 
enough to attack him, until he received 
the intelligence from one of his aids. — 
On reaching the scene of action, he 
found the Mexicans giving way, and 
immediately betook himself to a precip- 
itate, inglorious and characteristic flight. 

Three days after the battle. Most of 
the Texans had returned from the pur 
suit. Those of the enemy who had es- 
caped had taken refuge in the nearest 
ravines orests. Towards sunset, 

our hero, in company with a small par- 
ty of rangers, was returning from a 
scout for fugitives. He had strayed 
some distance from his companions, 
when he espeid far out on the smooth 
prairie, a Mexican horseman, flying for 
the nearest chapparal. He instantly 
started in pursuit. His horse, though 
jaded, gained rapidly on the fugitive ; 
but the chapparal was near; no time 
was to be lost — he raised his rifle and 
fired ; the noble charger of the Mexican 
bounded high in the air and fell dead 
The rider, who from his dress appeared 

to be an officer, darted into the morass. 
The ranger was soon at the spot, where 
the Mexican bad disappeared, and stop- 
ped suddenly to find the course the fu- 
gitive had taken. But no sound met 
his ear save the panting of his horse, 
and the excited pulsations of his own 
heart. Wondering how the MexicaD 
had escaped so rapidly as to be out of 
hearing, he was about to return, when 
he espied among the branches of a tall 
tree the object of his pursuit. 

" Come down, coward," said he, mak- 
ing signs to the man in the tree to de- 
scend, " come down — remember the Al- 
amo.' 1 '' 

At the word Alamo, the prisoner, 
shuddering with dismay, fell on his 
knees, (for by this time he had reached 
the ground) and cried out in good Eng- 
lish, " Spare me ! spare me !" 

"Contemptible coward," replied the 
captor, "how can I, a civilized being, 
stain my hands with the blood of a 
prisoner ?" 

Leading the captive to the place 
where lay his dead charger, the ranger 
cut off the reins and girths, and was 
proceeding to tie him, when, with an 
imploring look, he drew from his pocket 
a well filled purse. 

" Would you bribe a Freeman ?" cried 
the ranger, and again the prisoner sank 
on his knees as he saw the other draw- 
ing a long glittering knife frpm his 
belt. "Crouching wretch," said the 
other, and he put back his knife. 

The prisoner having been securely 
tied on the ranger's horse, they started 
for the Texan camp. They con- 
tinued their journey in sullen silence, 
each ignorant of the name and charac- 
I ter of the other, the one no doubt 



thinking of the magnanimity of spar- 
ing a foe, the other almost anticipating 
the death he could not hope to escape. 
Twilight was falling when they reach- 
ed the camp. Many flocked around 
the ranger to learn the result of his ad- 
venture. And no sooner had they seen 
the prisoner than theie arose, and re- 
sounded far over the plains and the 
waters of the San Jacinto, the exulting 
shout, "Santa Anna ! Santa Anna !'' 

That night there was joy in the 
camp ; for the enemy of Texas was cap- 
tive and she was free. 


On the southern coast of Texas, near 
to the Mexican Sea, is a quiet grave 
which contains all that was mortal of 
him of whom we have been speaking; 
a rough board at the head bears this 
inscription : William Hunter. 





"I have no home on earth," cried a 
noble youth, as he started forth in life, 
to battle with its stern realities. " I 
have no home on earth ;" but, with this 
strong arm and a light heart, I will 
gain a home. I wdl rear a marble pal- 
ace until its top shall reach high above 
the homes of men, and there will I rest 
when age shall have stiffened my limbs 
and cooled the ardor of my heart, and 
within my gates the pilgrim and the 
weary shall fin! a rest and a home on 

4, I have no home on earth," sighed an 
orphan girl, as she looked for the last 
time on the pale face of her dead moth- 
er. " I have no home on earth," and 
the tears coursed their burning way over 

her lovely cheeks. " Friends may gath- 
er round mo and I may meet at the 
circle of their household-fires ; dear ones 
may cling to me and offer me a house 
and a home, but the still, pale lips of 
my mother told me, I could have no 
homfi on <*arth ; l>ut, that far beyond 
the blue sky, I would find a home, a 
heavenly home, in a land where the 
grave casts no shadow, where the tear 
burns the cheek and dims the eye never, 
Where the wicked cease from trou- 
bling and the weary are at rest ;" there 
will I find a home, "a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens." 

"I have no home on earth," sighed 
an aged man, as he sat in the sunshine 
by the door, and his voice trembled as 



he softly murmured, "I have no home 
on earth." But long years ago, when 
this old arm gloried in the conscious 
strength of youth, and this slow beating 
heart was light and buoyant, I looked 
at the blue sky above me and said, 1 
would rear a marble palace until its 
high top should mingle with the soft 
floating clouds, and that in my gates 
the aged and the weary should ever 
find a home and a rest. But I have 
ever been a wanderer, and now my 
limbs are old and stiff, and time has 
left the impress of his footsteps on my 
brow and dimmed the brightness of my 

sight, until I can no longer see the blue 
sky. O, I know I have no home on 
earth, no resting place here ; the weary 
find a rest in the grave, a home for the 
body in the tomb. But I have a home 
way above where the stars shine and 
the moon runs her course, in a land 
where angels hymn eternal praises, and 
the stream of life flows gently onward 
from "the great white throne," where 
I will meet with those who have gene 
before, and kneeling at the feet of Him 
who has said, "In my Father's house 
are many mansions," I shall find a home 
far sweeter than the homes of man. 


So great is the diversity of opinion 
among men, that every principle of re- 
ligion, politics or philosophy, has had 
its traducers and its advocates, every 
warrior, fctat.esman or po'jt, their admi- 
rers and their defamers. Few men, 
therefore, can please the taste and tickle 
the fancy of ail in the parts they enact 
in the great drama of life. 

There is one man, however, who has 
but recently made his debut in the lit- 
erary world, to whom all his readers ac- 
cord the meed of praise for his bland, 
and cheerful style, his cutting satire, 
and his brilliant wit — John G. Saxe. 

Though he has but lately entered the 

lists, as a combatant for literary hon- 
ors, he has already won for himself a 
most enviable reputation, and a notorie- 
ty little less than the best of our Amer- 
ican poets. 

If the true essence of poetry springs 
from the heart, Saxe is. certainly a 
poet ; none, however, of that sickly sen- 
timental tribe who indite verses " To 
Mary," and "Maria Tabitha," for we 
take it that so " sensible a fellow " as 
he, has long since " been persuaded to 
wed," and consequently, feels no dispo- 
sition to inflict upon his readers a peru- 
sal of his amorous ditties, composed, 
perhaps, when years with him were 



younger, and he used to play for 
knucks. But when you read Saxe's 
poems, you will find the most piercing 
arrows of wit, and the sharpest daggers 
of satire, hid beneath the gay and fan- 
tastic garments of mirth and good hu- 

Had he devoted his entire attention 
to literature, he would doubtless have 
ranked among the very best of our 
American poets. But you must re- 
member that the profession of letters is 
decidedly the least lucrative of all 
methods to obtain an honest mainte- 
nance, as the biography of a large ma- 
jority of writers will tell you. Indeed, 
I know of but two or three of our 
own countrymen, but who are compel- 
led to engage in pursuits, which are cal- 
culated, as it were to smother, the sparks 
of genius. The profession of author- 
ship is therefore dreaded as a famine, 
and he who engages in it, had almost 
as well wed himself to poverty at once, 
for starvation and he will certainly shake 
hands before the race is finished. ''Pro- 
fessional authors, says an excellent es- 
sayist, " have ever been bruised and 
battered by fortune. When so thin 
that they cannot sport 'a shadow i' the 
sun,'" a bailiff has generally served in 
its place. Garrets and cellars have at 
once been their homes and their hiding 
places. Famine hollows their cheeks, 
disease lackies their steps. Every proud 
worldling hisses out his scoff, and every 
ass lifts his foot against them. They 
die at last, some by their own hand, 
some by insanity, some of famine, some 
of absolute weariness, and some of 
" helpless, hopeless, brokenness of heart," 

" Hiding from many a careless eye 
The scorned load of agony." 

It does not require a man of pro- 
found thought and great brilliancy of 
intellect to put a jest into rhyme, for any 
body who has wit enough to make a pun 
can easily construe it into doggerel. But 
that keen and delicate perception of the 
ridiculous, which enables a man to ex- 
tract mirth and laughter from the grav- 
est and most dignified of subjects ; that 
happy combination of the most ludicrous 
ideas and images, with the brightest 
fancies that the imagination can sug- 
gest; together with an easy, and appa- 
rently careless style of diction, is a lit- 
erary feat that few are capable of per- 

This peculiar faculty Saxe possesses 
in an extraordinary degree, and no man 
of our American authors, unless it be 
Oliver Wendell Holmes, can possibly 
hold a parallel with him. Woe, indeed ! 
to the unhappy victim, who is so unfor- 
tunate as to arouse the demon of his 
wit. With the utmost grace he fills his 
eyes with the gold dust of flattery, then 
dissects every fibre of his mental frame 
with as much nonchalance and good 
humor, as if it were an every day oc- 
currence, done for his own special grat- 
ification and amusement. 

His book contains about twenty po- 
ems, the most lengthy of which are 
Progress, a satire, The Proud Miss 
McBride, Rape of the Loch, or Cap- 
tain Jones' 1 Misadventure, and The 
Times. There are several shorter pro- 
ductions which are not less excellent, as 
A Benedict's Appeal to a Bachelor, and 
The Briefless Barrister, which are un- 
doubtedly, the best specimens of comic 
verse we have ever seen. 

The first poem in the book, is a sa- 
tire upon Progress, spoken before the 



Alumni of Middlebury College, in 1846, 
in which he lampoons with no sparing 
hand the many follies, and vices of the 
times. Allow me to make an extract 
or two, in order that you may have an 
idea of his manner. We scarcely know, 
however, what passages to. select, for 
there are so many which are excellent 
that it is difficult to settle upon any par- 
ticular one. 

In speaking of the remarkable effect, 
that this progressive age has had upon 
ouri modern youths, and the extraordi- 
nary degree of precocity they have at- 
tained over our honored grandads when 
of their age — he says : 

Happy the youth in this our golden age, 
Condemned no moio to con the prosy page, 
Of Locke and Bacon, antiquated lools, 
Now justly banished from our moral schools. 
By easier modes philosophy is taught, 
Than through the medium of laborious thought; 
Imagination kindly serves in stead, 
And saves the pupil many an aching head, 
Room for the Sages ! hither comes a throng 
Of blooming Platos trippingly along. 
In dress how fitted to beguile the fair ! 
What intellectual, stately heads — of hair! 
Hark to the Oracle ! — to wisdom's tone 
Breathed in a fragrant zephyr of Cologne. 
That boy in gloves, the leader of the van 
Talks ot the ' i uter,' and the ' inner' man, 
And knits his girlish brow in stout resolve 
Some mountain sized ' idea' to ' evolve.' 
Delusive toil ! thus in our infant days, 
When children mimic manly deeds in plays, 
Long will they sit, and eager bob for lohale 
Within the ocean of a water pail. 

Nor is he less severe upon the tender 
juvenals, than upon the fairer specimens 
of humanity, who after patting their lit- 
tle heads, and dandling their curls, he 
unmercifully slaps their pretty cheeks 
with the ft 1 lowing compliment : 

Nor less, oh Progress ! are thy newest rules, 
Enforced and honored in the "Ladies' Schools," 

Where Education in its nobler sense 
Gives place to learning's shallowest pretence, 
Where hapless maids, in spite ofwis-h or taste, 
On vain accomplishments their moments waste; 
By cruel parents here condemned tu wrench 
Their tender throats in mispronouncing French, 
Here doomed t>» force by unrelenting knocks 
Reluctant music from a tortured box, 
Here taught in inky shades and rigid lines, 
To perpetrate equivocal " designs," 
Drawings than from their title plainly true, 
By showing nature "drawn" and "quartered" too. 

It is unnecessary to take any more 
extracts from this poem, for its beauties 
are ill displayed by being separated from 
the entire production. We venture, 
however, to insert another extract — a 
most excellent hit — which we select as 
much for its truth as for its poetry : 

'Tis thus the modern sciences are made, 
By bold assumption, puffing and parade; 
Take three stale 'truths,' a dozen ' facts' assum- 
Too known ' effects ' and fifty more presumed, 
'Affinities' a score to sense unknown, 
And just as ' Lacus non lucendi ' shown, 
Add but a name of pompous Anglo Greek, 
And only not impossible to speak, 
The work is done and science stands confessed, 
And countless welcomes greet the queenly guest 

The beauty of this poem can only be 
felt by a careful perusal. And here let me 
say, if you ever desire to while away a 
tedious hour of your monotonous col- 
lege life, you cannot find a more agree- 
able manner of spending it than in read- 
ing this satire, of which Dr. Griswold 
has very truly said, " In skillful felici- 
ties of language and rhythm, general, 
clear and sharp expression, and alterna- 
ting touches of playful wit, and sound 
sense, there is nothing so long, that is 
so well sustained in the one hundred 
and one hooks of American satire." 

The next poem is The Proud Miss 
Mc Bride, in which he exhibits his most 



profound contempt for that self-suffi- 
cient, egotistical, purse-proud race of 
mortals — codfish aristocracy. Stand- 
ing at an easy distance, he slices bis 
victim with an unerring hand ; vampire- 
like, he is soothing while he kills ; 
laughs at the agonies of the unfortu- 
nate fallen one, or placing his thumbs 
upon the extremity of bis proboscis, 
with grave complacency wiggles his 
digitals, and turns away with a scornful 
smile playing upon his countenance. — 
But hear his opinion of American aris- 

Of all the notable ;hings on earth, 
The queerest thing is the pride of birth 

Among our fierce democracy. 
A bridge across a hundred years, 
Without a prop to save from sneers, 
Not ev»n a couple of rotten peers 
A thing for laughter, fears and .jeers 

Is American aristocracy.. 

Depend upon it my snobbish friend, 
Your family thread you can't ascend. 
Without good reason to apprehend, 
You may find it waxed at the other end 

By some plebian vocation. 
Or worse than that your boasted line, 
May end in a loop of stronger twine, 

That plagued some worthy relation. 

But be tells an excellent tale about 
this Proud Miss McBride, who was 
"proud of her beauty and proud of her 
pride," and a thousand other things she 
was proud of, and among the rest 
she was proud of the great facility she 
had acquired of distinguishing cheese 
from chalk on "very slight inspection." 
She had not the remotest idea, of the 
meaning of Humble and Lowly, and as 
for Meek, she was of the opinion that be 
was a pedling Jew, whose christian name 
was Moses, and who was in the habit of 
hawking in her community. We should 

have said before, however, that she was 
the daughter of old Phenix McBride, 
who had obtained this beautiful sobri- 
quet from the fact (as the boys ' up 
town ' say,) that he had " arose from his 
ashes." For the old gentleman, you 
must know, had in his earlier days been 
a very successful tallow chandler, and by 
dint of saving "candle ends and sich," 
he had amassed a pretty considerable 
pile of " filthy lucre." Consequently 
the hand of his charming daughter was 
eagerly sought after by every candidate 
for matrimony in Gotham. But Lord ! 
they were "out of it," for she was de- 
cidedly opposed to stepping from the 
ranks of maiden ladies, without an ur- 
gent solicitation to that effect from 
twenty beaux or more. A thriving 
tailor first proposed for her hand, and 
then a boot-maker, who had a "bootless 
suit," for though a " regular sutor by 
trade," she " bid the cobler keep to his 
calling." Then comes an attorney who 
had his suit discarded, and numberless 
others met with a similar fate. But at 
last a little dandy 

" Sleek and supple and tall and trim, 
And smooth of tongue as neat of limb, 

And meagre his meagre pocket. 
You'd say rom the glittering tales he told, 
That he had slept in a cradle ol gold 

With Fortunatus to rock it." 

Now this young sprig, who gloried in 
the name of Dapper Jim, like every oth- 
er sensible fellow had an eye to the fu- 
ture, but more immediately to old Phe- 
nix's pocket book, which he very rea- 
sonably concluded would become the 
property of his daughter, when the old 
gentleman had "shuffled off this mortal 
coil." So after many efforts he at length 



succeeded in persuading the "charming 
creature " to become a bride without 
the Mc. 

But as ill luck will happen in all 
"well regulated families" — 

" Old John McBride one fatal day- 
Became the unrelenting prey 

Of fortune undertakers, 
And staking his all on a single die, 
His foundered bark went high and dry 

Among the brokers and breakers." 

So he had to return to his "ancient 
calling," which he had dropped years 
before, and he slept just as sound as he 
did when at the height of his power, he 
dreamed of falling. It went far other- 
wise, however, with this hopeful daugh- 
ter, for her pride was so severely shock- 
ed that it was utterly impossible ever 
to rally her jaded spirits, and besides 
the vulgar people made her a subject 
of mi rib, 

And mocked at her situation ; 
She was'nt ruined they ventured to hope, 
Because she was poor she needn't to mope, 
Few people were better off for soap, 

And that was a consolation. 

But to make her cup of grief rim over, 
her devoted lover whom she was short- 
ly to promise to love, honor, and obey, 
very unceremoniously discontinued bis 
visits, nor was he ever seen more about 
the residence of the worthy old 'Squire. 
She consequently laments her desolate 
condition, for cramped up between the 
rich and the poor, her views of society, 
like Dick Surviler's, are very limited, 
owing to which circumstance our author 
moralizes thus : 

Because you flourish in wordly affairs, 
Don't be haughty and put.on airs, 
With insolent pride of station. 

Don't be proud, and turn up your nose 
At poorer people in plainer clo'es, 
But learn for the sake of your soul's repose 
That wealth's a bubble that comes and goes, 
And that all Proud Flesh wherever it grows, 
Is subject to irritation. 

Punning, we are told by Dr. Whate- 
ly, is the lowest kind of wit, and decid- 
edly as impolite among people of sound 
sense, as slang phrases are, or ought to 
be, among the ladies. Notwithstanding, 
the Archbishop's opinion, we defy any 
man to read the poem from which we 
have quoted the above, and not shake 
his sides in laughter, at the perfect tor- 
nado of puns, and good ones too, with 
which it abounds, and we can only ac- 
count for the error into which the learn- 
ed Logician has fallen, by our know- 
ledge of the fact, that he wrote his ideas 
upon the subject long before Saxe had 
reduced the art of punning to its present 
degree of perfection. 

But to those who consider Saxe as a 
comic poet only, we must say that they 
are sadly mistaken, for he has given 
ample proof of his excellence in the 
truly sentimental and pathetic. Indeed 
his particular forte seems to be comic 
verse, but he has written some very ten- 
der and touching pieces, which would 
do honor to even Moore himself. Who 
is it that cannot admire the beaut)' of 
the following lines ? which he has enti- 
tled My Boyhood : 

Ah me ! those joyous clays are gone, 
1 little dreampt till they were flown, 
How fleeting were the hours ; 
For lest he break the pleasing spell, 
Time bears for youth a muffled bell, 
, And hides his face in flowers. 

It would give us pleasure to review 
still farther the book before us, but 



fearing lest we have trespassed already 
too long upon the patience of our read- 
ers, and feeling our incapacity to speak 
of it as we ought, we will close our re- 
marks by simply saying to our college 
friends, that when the clouds of gloom 
and disappointment shall hover over 
you ; when your heart is heavy and 
your temples throb from the effects, 
pe.haps, of last night's potations ; when 
you " see a fellow " wearing the flowers 
which you in your most fascinating 
manner presented to your dulcinea at 
the last evening's ball ; when you have 
received a letter from your doating sire 
giving you the very agreeable informa- 

tion that he has received in the same 
mail your report and your tailor's bill, 
with a soul-stirring eulogium upon your 
economical propensities ; and lastly, 
when you have stood the whole hour at 
a blackboard, vainly endeavoring to de- 
monstrate satisfactorily to an impatient 
tutor the principle of the "pons assino- 
rum," do not, let me entreat you, tear 
your hair and rend your garments, or 
more tragically, butt out against the 
college walls what brains you are pos- 
sessed of, but go calmly to your room, 
light a cigar and read Saxe's poems, and 
rest assured that in a very short time 
you will find yourself greatly relieved. 


[dedicated to the members of the freshman class.] 

Friday night has come again. What 
exquisite pleasure it brings. The labors 
of the week are passed — the dull rou- 
tine of college duties — and now in your 
own apartment you are your own pre- 
ceptor — consequently books are flung 
aside, study forgotten, and while a 
bright lamp casts its deep mellow rays 
over the heterogeneous furniture, lend- 
ing light and life, and pleasure ; you 
abandon yourself without a struggle to 
the guidance of your passing thoughts 
How you like such a time to come ! — 
How you like ever a brief reprieve from 

the pressing duties of that intellectual 
gymnasium ! Now the baffled tide of 
long repressed feelings, feelings that 
busy exertion of College duties would 
not allow a hearing, roll down upon 
you, and fond memory lingers long in 
its review of youthful pleasures: and 
"raongst" all the scenes of youth, the 
thought of none, comes back with a 
more cheerful echo than that of your 
school-boy clays. What an era do they 
form in one's history ! How well you 
can remember the pleasures they afford- 
ed — those times were delightful. Even 



now you can transport yourself in im- 
agination to the clean swept play- 
ground in front of the humble little log 
school house, over which many a nim 
ble form has tripped. Doubtless, now, 
the visionary form of some former com- 
panion floats before you, but it is all a 
vision of your own creation — for times 
are changed — how changed ? The little 
school-house is fast decaying, and the 
old play-grounds are grown over with 
weeds and grass, while the gladsome 
throng that once made the spot echo 
and re-echo with its merry voice is now 
scattered widely. 

Some have even now entered upon 
the world's service ; already have some 
emigrated to that least known, yet most 
desired of "all states," the state of mat- 
rimony, while others have departed to 
that more distant land, "from whose 
bourne no traveler returns." And while 
these changes have taken place in the 
affairs of others, you too have been hur- 
ried on in life's busy drama. Already 
you have left home, home beloved, 
sweet place. There is music in the 
sound, and base must be that heart 
where no chord echoes the note. Round 
it cluster peace, and joy, and love, all 
sacred ties in the family circle. Yet all 
these you have left. Friends, kind 
friends have gi en you a parting good 
wish — and, while a tear glistened in his 
eye, a father shook you by the hand, 
and pronounced a parting blessing ; a 
mother too pressed you to her aching bo- 
som, while ber feelings rose up too thick 
for utterance. They all have gone be- 
fore you, in the path of life, and know- 
ing well the task before you, they have 
trembled for your future welfare — they 
have seei' that now new temptation* 
must assail, which, if not at once, and 

successfully resisted, will acquire a fear- 
ful ascendancy. Then wonder not at 
their solicitude for you, but rather let it 
be a stimulus to prompt you to actions 
worthy and noble — a beacon light to 
guide your inconsiderate thoughts in the 
way where sweet delight and peaceful 
honors await you. Thus make yourself 
worthy of your parents' love and your 
home's endearments. 

Now you are a student, already have 
you taken your initiatory steps in that 
life full of curious occurrences and 
strange events; now for you is that most 
critical period of your whole life. Then 
pause for a moment, gather aroifhd you 
the memories and warnings of your 
brief experience — reflect that the lighter 
part of your destiny is completed — that 
the graver affairs of teal life have actu- 
ally begun. Now, let passed errors and 
follies become to you the monitor of 
wisdom. They are frailties not to be 
idly regretted, but to be solemnly re- 
deemed. Let the past afford you a 
prophetic warning for the future, and 
when you look back over the tombs of 
departed follies, behold by the side of 
each, the placid countenance of a warn- 
ing angel, bidding you take warning 
from the past. Never utter that worse 
than foolish prayer, " oh that my time 
could return — oh that I had done this 
or coul 1 undo that;" but rather rejoice 
that so long a season yet remains to 
you to be improved by your accumula- 
ted experience. 

Then let us advise you. Banish not 
from you all feelings of kindness and 
affection, for know that these are quali- 
ties which all who wish to make life 
pleasant must possess; for many share 
the same lot with you, and often even 
one kind word falls like balm to the 



wounded spirit, calling back the pleas- 
ant, merry faces of former times, and 
wakening a train of thoughts as wel- 
come as beneficial. 

Remember too, that even now, you 
are making the impress of your charac- 
ter on those around, and trivial as it 
may -eem, you are now laying the foun- 
dations of that character which must 

here to you through life. It should 
be one of your happiest, your proudest 
possessions, it should be more to you 
than hoarded gold to the meager miser. 
it will procure you rank, without wealthy 
the honors witliout the jealousies of fame. 

"Wisdom would say, procure it at any 
price, estimate it at its true value, and 
guard the priceless jewel with a jealous 
eye. Your fellow-students, indulgent 
as they may seem, are impartial judges 
of your conduct, they are scanning your 
every act, your every expression. To 
them you unbosom your feelings with 
a candor truly commendable — and they 
discern your disposition, your ability 
your progress, and application, with a cer- 
tainty, not to be mistaken; and when once 
the impress is made it remains indelible. 

This too is the morning of your life; 
perhaps fur y r ou the morning's dawn 
has been bright; and you have felt that 
your day would be one of sunshine and 
pleasure; but let not present appear- 
ances deceive you — guard well each 
tendency of your volatile mind) A thou- 
sand different circumstances may arise 
to uproot your former good impres- 
sions. Fancy oftener than reason may 
dictate a course of proceedings. Plea 
sure rather than duty may be your 
guide. Know too that now you have 
the best of opportunities for preparing 
youiselffor entering upon the serious 
affairs of after life. Here are advantages 

the rarest, the best of instructors, the 
kindest of benefactors, with every at- 
tendant comfort that means can procure. 

Here too you have the storehouses of 
collected knowledge, filled with the vol- 
umes of the wise and good,placing atyour 
command the matured ideas of men 
that have been ; men whose works re- 
main an imperishable monument to 
their genius — a rich legacy to the ama- 
teur of letters ; volumes into which the 
authors have breathed their very exist- 
ence, and from which their mighty souls 
look out on us with all their effulgence 
and grandeur. 

Knowledge truly is a fair chaplet, and 
and he who wins it, wins for himself an 
enviable distinction. But remember 
in her train follow virtue, and temper- 
ance, and ability, and perseverance. — 
Her votaries neither sit at the bachana- 
lian feast, nor bow at the shrine of fash- 
ion ; they scorn mean sensual pleasures, 
their throughts>are nobler, their aspira- 
tions more lofty; they remember whose 
image they bear, and in whose likeness 
they have been made, and ihe thought 
prompts them to press on in the arena 
of literary strife with undaunted courage. 

Would you be c ne of her votaries, 
the path is plain though steep and nar- 
row — many have trod it, yet none with- 
out labor — every sweet you will find 
here as well as elsewhere has its bitter, 
but duty performed, brings with it a 
welcome remembrance of past things, 
and a bright prospect for future success. 
Then let not the Syren song of stolen 
pleasure beguile you from your prescrib- 
ed course, for know that he alone who 
faithfully, devotedly, and constantly la- 
bors, can reap the substantial pleasures 
of college life. 




The first impression of the new stu- 
dent as he enters one of our Libraries 
is : " What an immense range for re- 
search !" " Who will ever need all 
these volumes ?" Yet no one must be 
astonished when we say that the pres- 
ent limits of our Libraries shame us. — 
Perhaps we ought not to be ashamed 
when we recollect what is their age and 
what have been the opportunities for 
enlarging them. But, if with the means 
within our reach and the necessity be- 
fore our eyes, we still suffer the shelves 
to hold empty dust, and whilst others 
are collecting immense stores of infor- 
mation, look in silence upon our un re- 
plenished alcoves, we have good cause 
to be ashamed. If indeed we are con- 
tent to be behind any other people in 
this important work, let us blush f r it. 
But we are not content to linger in the 
rear, and to every taunt for our limited 
numbers and empty shelves, we answer, 
it is on account of our youth and want 
of means. We see the fault, and every 
day wo are trying to diminish it. Our 
Libraries are three in number, viz: the 
College Library of 3,600 volumes — the 
Philanthropic Library of 5,500 volumes, 
and the Dialectic Library of 5,200 vol- 
umes — in all 14,300 volumes. These 
may be said to contain more books 
than any man can read. True, they 
are more than any student in the Uni- 
versity will ever read. If indeed that 
were the only consideration, one tenth 

of the present number would be all snf- 
ficent, and nothing but foolish extrava- 
gance could induce any one to fill an- 
other shelf. As our Libraries are now 
generally used, it is quite impossible to 
see the greatest use of enlarging them 
five hundred fold. There is a class of 
readers who merely wish to pass time 
pleasantly and acquire a smattering, 
conversational acquaintance with the 
most popular authors of the day. For 
these it is only necessary to replenish 
annually our alcoves with the new nov- 
els, and the works of those whose be- 
witching style exacts admiration from 
the superficial reader. But we want 
books for the student ; we mean student 
in the true sense of the word. First comes 
one who wishes to study some science in 
its advanced stages. At this day, almost 
every useful science has been made 
simple, lucid and connected. Such 
may be expected and found in every 
complete Library. Now let us look 
around at our books and see how we 
could accommodate the student of mod- 
ern science. Geology is a science which 
has risen but lately from nothing, and 
become one of the most practically im- 
portant in our country. It not only 
guides our mining operations, but in 
every State its benefits are felt. Accu- 
rate Geological surveys are always use- 
ful and are often absolutely necessary. 
Some States owe most of their wealth, 
in the shape of wells, mineral beds, and 



metallic strata, to geological observa- 
tions. It is very desirable then that 
everv one should make himself some- 
what acquainted with the science, and 
particularly to know what information 
has been collected in that department. 
And yet there are scarcely enough books 
in all our Libraries to teach one the 
first principles of the science ; so imper- 
fect is the department. Where fifty 
shelves ought to be laden with the 
works of Lyell, Hutton, Riestly, and 
others on this subject, we find nothing 
but a little book by Lyell. There is not 
even a survey of North Carolina, in this 
her Athenseum. Where are the Geolo- 
gical surveys of the State 2* Are they 
any where complete and accessible? — 
If they are, one copy, at least, ought to 
be in the University Library. 

The other departments are scarcely 
more complete. We have mentioned 
one example, but if you would investi- 
gate any of the sciences in their last 
results, we can as yet satisfy you in on- 
ly a very small degree. But there al- 
ways are, and it is desirable that there 
should be, those who wish to go much 

*Prof. Olmstead, under commission from the 
Governor, explored and reported on the gold 
regions of the State, which was, we believe, the 
first Geological survey made in the United 
States under legislative order. Prof. Mitchell 
also made subsequent surveys and arranged a 
geological map of the State, laying down min- 
utely a representation of the great bed of sand- 
stone, which is of ihe coal series of rocks. An 
entire geological survey of the State is now 
making by Prof. Emmons, as State Geologist. 
NorthCarolina, then, has already taken laudable 
steps for the development oi her mineral re- 
sources — though these surveys, we think, have 
never appeared in suitable form for placing in 
Libraries. — Eds. Uni. Ma&. 

farther, and to extend their examina- 
tions to the works of those who have 
attempted to give a full development of 
acknowledged principles, or to add to 
the store by new discoveries. Here we 
find the great value of those extensive 
treatises which are useless to the class 
of readers before mentioned. They are 
books of reference. Their readers are 
those who are determined to master the 
science in which they are engaged in all 
its bearings, and they are to be useful 
in the " application of science to the 
arts." Such men perform the most ac- 
tive part in advancing civilization. Are 
they not then an important class of stu- 
dents ? If no where else, they are 
much needed in North Carolina. And 
if she ever catch up with her more vig- 
ilant sisters it will be by railroad speed, 
with these men for her engineers. But 
what inducement do we offer them ? — 
This should be a serious question with 
us, and one which our unintermitted 
exertions would soon enable us to an- 
swer in a way more satisfactory than -is 
now in our power to do.. We would 
mention one other class of students to 
whom, in their present conditions, our 
Libraries can avail almost nothing. We 
refer to those who have a thorough 
knowledge of their respective private 
sciences and wish to examine their his- 
tories, to trace them to their origins, 
through their progressions, and follow 
up the speculations and experiments 
which contribute to their formations. — 
To these, the heavy volumes which re- 
pose on our shelves, untouched by him 
who studies science in its results, and 
occasionally referred to by him who 
pursues if/ jn all its length and breadth, 
are absolutely necessary and indispensa- 



ble. When we think how scantily oui 
alcoves are supplied with the material- 
which are essential to the successful 
prosecution of those studies, we cannot 
help turninj: our eyes with a kind ot 
greedy envy to the immense collections 
in London, Paris, St. Petersburg, Ber- 
lin, and other places. How can we 
clothe ourselves with obstinate indiffer- 
ence and be content with Harvard's 93,- 
000 vol-., the Boston Athenaeum's 55,- 
000, the Philadelphia Library's 61,000, 
while I he British Museum has its 500,- 
000, Royal Library at Munich and Roy- 
al Library at Berlin have their 600,000 
each, and Paris basin her public libraries 
more books by 50,000 than are to be 
found in all the public libraries of Amer- 
ica? Besides the credit due to the Euro- 
pean nations for the collection of these 
immense stores of information, there is 
much that is exemplary in their man- 
agement, and the way in which their in- 
valuable advantages are extended to indi- 
viduals. We cannot refrain from copy- 
ing a short paragraph from Norton's 
Literary Gazette. 

Speaking of the 600,000 volumes of 
the Royal Library at Berlin, it says : — 
"Any one, no matter who he is, by sim- 
ply drop] ling a note into a box for the 
purpose, can have any books he wishes 
to read in the large reading room of the 
Library. If the note is put in before 
nine in the morning, the books are rea- 
dy at eleven, if after nine, at two o'clock^ 
The reading room is open from nine to 
four every driy but Sunday, and every 
facility is afforded for using the books. 
Those desiring to take books with them 
are subjected to a little more trouble. 
Every practising physician, lawyer or 
minister, every professor, teacher or pub- 

lic officer of any sort, receives books to 
take home on his simple demand, not, 
taking them for more than six weeks 
without returning them to see if any 
one else has applied for them; if not, 
he can take them for another six weeks. 
Any one else may take books from the 
Library on the same conditions by get- 
ting some one, known to the authori- 
ties, or any one of those already them- 
selves receiving books, to sign a paper 
guaranteeing a return of the books." — 
Such are the privileges given to all 
classes, from the street laborer who 
spends a wanton hour in looking over 
a book of choice engravings, to the learn- 
ed scholar who devotes days and weeks 
to tracing out some simple custom of a 
perished people. Such is the laudable 
care of this and similar in titutions, that 
idle talents may have no longer an ex- 
cuse for their lightness of labor, and 
poverty no obstacle which industry 
may not obviate. Thus is the door of 
knowledge thrown open to every one 
who wishes to enter, and science placed 
within the reach of all who court her 

The question may here rise : Are all 
these advantages necessary, and is this 
vast accumulation of books conducive 
to the formation of a pure literature, 
at once original, vigorous and profound. 
We answer, without hesitation — yes. — 
And a page of any history in our libra- 
ry is enough to prove the assertion. It 
was remarked by Mr. Justice Story, a 
few years ago, that, "There is not, per- 
haps, a single library in America, suffi- 
ciently copious to have enabled Gibbon 
to have verified the authorities for his 
immortal History of the Decline and 
Fall of the Roman Empire." This as- 



senion will probably surprise many, but 
it is not probable that with the aid of 
any single library in the world he could 
have compiled that monument of liis 
splendid talents. Neither could the 
immortal Irving have ever written his 
history of Columbus, in America. It 
required long and labored research 
throughout the archives of Spanish lite- 
rature, and that with his splendid ta- 
lents, to compile that volume. But we 
may come nearer home. We dare say 
that Mr. Wheeler could never have 
composed his history of North Carolina, 
with the simple aid of the libraries in 
the State. And far the greater portion 
of his aid was doubtless drawn from 
private sources. Even the little Revo- 
lutionary History of North Carolina, 
consisting of three lectures by Hawks, 
Graham and Swain, could not be entire- 
ly authenticated by any State papers or 
public documents in the public libraries 
of the State. The little work on Natu- 
ral History, so familiarly known to Dr. 
Mitchell's classes, could not have been 
compiled from the libraries of this, the 
prided daughter of the Old North State. 
If you take any of the sciences and try 
to learn its history, you will have to 
leave these classic shades and search for 
more propitious climes. Take, for in- 
stance, that of Political Economy, one 
of the most recent. If you would taste 
the waters at the fountain head, you 
must go farther back than Adam 
Smith's bend. The stream winds 
through the intricacies of French, Ital- 
ian and various other schools, which all 
require a strict and thorough examina- 

If such be the duties of the student 
of science, those of tbe historian are still 

more difficult; for he is to oppose testi- 
mony against conflicting testimony, 
compare manuscript with contradictory 
manuscript, and to measure probabili- 
ties and public documents against per- 
plexing opinions and private interests ; 
if these, we say, be their duties, what 
advantages can be too great and what 
assistance too considerable, even in the 
hands of the most talented, for the ac- . 
complishment of such arduous tasks ? 
The few advantages which we hold out 
to authors would at once discourage the 
most aspiring talents, and silence the 
most valuable abilities. Had their au- 
thors been indebted to our aid alone, 
the elegant works of Sparks, Prescott 
and Ticknor would never have orna- 
mented our shelves. Even Mr. Bancroft 
has been obliged to have recourse to 
European libraries for material to write 
the History of the United States. 

It may be said that we have but 
few readers of this kind, and that 
our libraries contain an abundance for 
that mediocrity of talent which abounds 
in this country to a far greater extent 
than in any other part of the world. — 
That if at any time an author should 
wish to get information which they can- 
not afford, a short trip to Berlin or to 
Paiis will suffice. This may be true at 
present. But it certainly cannot often 
he repeated. We are advancing in ev- 
ery department of science and art at 
railroad speed. Our school system is 
fast permeating every part of the coun- 
try, and its rivulets will soon flow with- 
in the reach of the humblest cottager, 
so that none shall be debarred by piti. 
less poverty from slaking his thirst for 
knowledge. Universities are springing 
up in every State, and we must soon 



have institutions which may educate a 
Hayne, a Bentley, a Porson or a Pair. 
But isitpossible for America to educate 
the millions of her youths every year 
without finding among them abundance 
of the highest order of talent? And 
is America to present to the world the 
curious anomaly of a nation educating 
the largest possible class of its citizens, 
opening the door way to high and low, 
rich and poor, ands yet not having its 
due proportion of students of the high- 
est intellectual attainments and exten- 
sive research ? No. We will soon have 
men, and their numbers will be accord- 
ing to the inducements held out to 
them, who, although they are not able 
to avail themselves of the costly advan- 
tages of European libraries, will, when 
equal advantages are offered to them at 
home, display talent comparable to any 
to whom the past has given birth. — 
They will only need opportunities to 
display minds whose brilliancy will flash 
light through the misty scenes of the 
past, and pioneer paths in the dim fu- 
ture which will lead us to unthought of 
glories. Let us no longer then leave 
the monopoly of our literature in the 
hands of fortune's favored sons. Let us 
build Athenaeums so extensive that no 
literary character shall want an atmos- 
phere in which to develope itself; so 
deep in mystical lore that they shall 
never be fathomed by the plummets of 
the strongest minds; and so free that 
no son of America shall ever be depriv- 
ed of drinking the fresh streams, as they 
gush from these inexhaustable fountains 
of learning. 

What we have said was not by any 
means intended to disparage our libra- 
ries. Our country is young, and our at- 

tention has necessarily been directed to 
matters of more immediate importance. 
Our opportunities also for collecting 
books have hitherto been much limited. 
How then could it be expected that our 
libraries should as yet rival those, which 
for the last four centuries, inexhaustible 
wealth and royal patronage have been 
rearing in Europe? But our prospects 
are brightning in every part of the 
scientific horizon. The dawn of gener- 
al intelligence which is now breaking 
upon the remotest hill-tops of our wes- 
tern boundary, is the sure precursor to 
the effulgent sun of a pure and original 
literature. Every day is already bring- 
ing within our reach the intellectual ef- 
forts of the greatest minds. Wealth is 
flowing into the coffers of a generous in- 
dustry, and the press issues its immense 
floods of information at rates which are 
within the means of every man. A 
comparison in one or two instances will 
show our advantage over Europe in this 
last respect. 

London Prices. N. Y. Prices. 
Bulwer's "My Novels,,' $10 50 $0 75 
Alison's Europe, 25 00 5 00 

Macaulay's England, 4 50 40 

Layard's Nineveh, 9 00 1 25 

And others in proportion. 

Surely then we ought to be doing 
something to increase our libraries. It 
is time even for North Carolina to com* 
mence a public storehouse, where she 
may gather the literature of other States 
and nations until she has some of her 
own. There is nothing save the Chris- 
tian religion which is more important 
to the security of our government, our 
success in the arts and sciences, and the 
happiness of the American j eopl than 
a pure American literature. Nor can 



there be institutions more conducive to 
this object than public libraries. But 
how much have we done towards build- 
ing up our libraries ? 

The University library has been late- 
ly removed to a very appropriate build- 
ing. The books were so few in num- 
ber that it would not do to put them 
all together, for crowded into one corn- 
er, they would entirely escape observa- 
tion. Scattered as they are, a few on 
each shelf, it is much feared by some 
that they must soon lose each other's 
acquaintance ; whilst their beggarly ap- 
pearance would make vanity in the best 
of them exceedingly ill-timed. 

It is not a little strange that for so 

many years there have been no additions 
to this library. Has it so long escap- 
ed the attention of the Faculty ? Have 
they in their eagerness to get new Pro- 
fessors, and to open new departments in 
the College course, failed to observe the 
necessity of steadily increasing a library 
which is the most valuable and would 
be the most useful in the State ? We 
cannot think so. It is scarcely possi- 
ble to believe that our careful and en- 
ergetic President could pass in silence 
this important part of the institution. — 
It may be chargeable to the Trustees, 
as they are the scape-goat for even- 
want or over-sight in the University. 
\To he continued, ,] 


I'm sitting in my quiet room, the room which 
once was thine, 

The eyes of thy sweet portrait are fondly turn- 
ed to mine ; 

Around me gentle tokens, lying here and there, 

Tell me that ere I eame, another's place was 
here — 

To thy loved home on earth — come Angel Wife 
to me, 

Fain would my spirit hold communings high 
with thee. 

Thou art come — I feel, and feel without a fear, 
That thou, sweet sister-Wife, e'en now art 

hovering near — 
By my own woman's heart, which hails thee in 

its truth, 
The chosen and the blest of the Beloved One's 

Vol. III.— 24. 

I Jcnow thou wouldstnot wish his manhood and 

To pass away, uncheered by such deep love as 


And when first he woo'd and won myvirgin heart 

Thy last words, Sweet Wife, with his own lore 
bore part — 

"If there lives on earth heart which can love 
like mine, 

My own beloved Husband — may that heart be 
thine !" 

And as he stooped to kiss my brow, the first he 
gave to me, 

Upon my upturned face there fell — a tear, Lov- 
ed One, to thee. 

Well didsfthou suit him, Gentle One, in fe- 
verish, sanguine youth, 

His restless heart e're found in thee, calmness, 
repose and truth — 



My own more fervent fancy would then have 
fann'd the flame, 

Which like a lava-torrent o'er his young Be- 
ing came. 

But now the broken spirit, oft baffled in the 

Has need of one like me to urge it to the race. 

For oft he says, " Come sing to me, my Bird, 

in thy exalted strain, 
I feel the mighty impulse of my young days 

And as I sit beside him and " wake to ecstasy 
the lyre," 

I see manhood's calm eye light up with youth- 
ful fire, 

As if the lofty breathings of my full young 

New life — freshness — and vigor — did to his 
own impart. 

Christian, Patriot, Philosopher ! well might be, 
Two women's lives devoted all to one like thee, 
He needed its both sweet sister, in the Battle of 

Thee, to restrain youth's fire — me, to rekindle 

it for the strife. 
And still he needs us both — to thy own Heaven 

ilwu'lt lure him on, 
And /will smooth his way, until the Goal is 

won — 

Yes, mine's the blessed right to smooth his 

rugged way, 
Mine's the blessed right to "love, honor, and 

For "better and for worse " be Fortune grave 

or gay, 
Always, beloved Husband, Jot thee to watch 

and pray, 
To keep me ever near thee " in sickness and in 

And jknow no parting from thee, save by the 

hand of Death - 

And in all the lofty duties of woman and of wife, 

"Which lead the Man and Husband, to noblest, 
highest life — 

In all the thousand offices of sweetest tender- 

In which my full heart springs to highest hap- 
piness — i 

In all the mighty influence of my heart's great 

Pll never cease to point him — Onward! and 
Above ! 

I start, as one awaking from a dream, 
So lost my soul in its late, lofty theme- 

Still smiles on me thy gentle loving face, 
And here's thy Bible in its accustomed place ; 
And in that little watch-case lying there, 
Is his own watch, with chain of thy soft hair. 

And thy child, sweet mother, thine own dar- 
ling boy; 
Angel cannot forget a, mother's love and joy ! 
He has the lofty soul of his noble Father, 
With the loving heart of his gentle Mother : 
And ne'er.for mother's love will thy child pine, 
Foivhe is thine, my husband, and therefore he is 

But hark ! I hear the sound of happy childhood's 

And turn, two bright and beauteous boys to 

The first with winning smile and proudly flash- 
ing eye 

Looks born for Love and Fame's high destiny — 

The other, gay and joyous, with laugh of sil- 
very tone, 

He seems a thing of light — my beautiful, my 

Come hither darling boy— thou, the eldest born! ' 
I'd tell thee of thy mother, cut off in life's fair 

Come look with me, my child, on thy Angel 

Mother's face, 
And ne'er let other love usurp that mother's 

And thou my own bright boy, come hither 

with thy brother, 
Slie is also my child ! thine own Angel-Mother. 

And another too is here — an arm around us 

I feel beloved husband that it is thine own. 
All here gazing on thee; husband, children, wife, 
I, in the blest place which was thine in life, 
But from Eternity's great secret, I hear thy 

spirit tell, 
The wife and mother of thy loved ones — " It is 


And we will all be together, on the great final ' 

da y, 

When heaven and earth will roll, like a parched 
scroll away : 

Husband, wives, and children will all together 

In their Kedeemer's might, on his great right 
hand — 

Where there is no marrying, and none in mar- 
riage given, 

But all are as the angels of Our Father in 
Heaven ! A. 





In reviewing our Second Volume, for the purpose of arranging the index which accompanied 
the last number, we came to the conclusion that our prose was of a finer tissue, than with rare 
exceptions, the votive offerings which have been laid upon your altars. We more than suspect 
that the age of chivalry has passed away and that ours, though a progressive, is a prosing gen- 
eration. We hope, therefore, that we shall give no offence to any of the sacred Nine, or to 
earth-born goddesses, by retiring to some extent from your service. 

Under this impression we venture to giv« notice to all concerned, that while real original 
poetic fire is not to be extinguished, scintillations of genius will occasionally irradiate our pages 
which have illumined earlier and brighter days than ours. Sheridan's lines to Miss Lindley, 
which appeared in the Port Folio, in the days of Doctor Dennie, may be received as a specimen 
of what is intended to be exhibited in succeeding numbers. We may now and then, uuder the 
head of Poetical Selections, present the genuine article so nearly original, that not one in a hun- 
dred of our terrestrial readers, shall be able to trace our musings to their latent sources. They 
will find them new, if not original, and they may in some instances, if they choose, suspect 
them to be both. — Editors University Magazine. 

Mr. Sheridan, the celebrated orator, meeting 
Miss Lindley (afterwards Mrs. Sheridan,) in the 
entrance of a grotto, took the liberty to offer her 
some advice, with which he apprehended she 
was displeased. We hope we do not transgress 
the laws of delicacy, if we ask our readers what 
they imagine must have been the lady's feelings, 
whatever her station in life, when, on entering 
her grotto the next day, she found this beauti- 
ful performance, left her by a man of Mr. Sher- 
idan's just celebrity and elevated standing in 
society. — Port Folio. 

Uncouth is this moss-cover'd grotto of stone : 
And damp is the shade of this dew-dropping 
tree ; 

Yet, I this rude grotto with rapture will own, 
And willow ! thy damps are refreshing to me. 

For this is the grotto where Delia reclin'd, 

As late I, in secret, her confidence sought : 
And this is the tree kept her safe from the 
As blushing, she heard the graVe lesson I 

Then, tell me, thou grotto of moss-covered 
And tell me thou willow, with leaves dripping 
Did Delia seemed vexed when Horatio was 
And did she confess her resentment to you ? 

Methinks now each bough, as you're waving it, 
To whisper a cause for the sorrow I feel • 
To hint how she frown'd, when I dared to ad- 
And sigh'd when she saw that I did it with 

True, true, silly leaves so she did, I allow, 
She frown'd, but no rage in her looks could I 
see ; 
She frown'd, but reflection had clouded her 
She sigh'd, but perhaps t'was in pity to me. 

For well did she know that my heart meant no 
I shrink at the thought of but giving her pain; 
But trusted its task to a faltering tongue, 
Which err'd from the feelings it could not ex- 

Yet, oh ! if indeed I've offended the maid, 
If Delia my humble monitions refuse; 

Sweet willow, next time she visits thy shade, 
Fan gently her bosom, and plead my excuse. 

And thou stony grot, in thy arch niay'st pre 
Two lingering drops of the night fallen dew; 
And just let them fall at her feet, and they'll 
As tears of my sorrow entrusted to you. 



Or, lest they unheeded should fall at her feet, 
Let them fall on her bosom of mow, and I 

The next time I visit thy moss-covered seat, 
I'll pay thee each drop with a genuine tear. 

So may'st thou, green willow, for ages thus 
Thy branches so dark o'er the slow winding 
And thou, stony grotto, retain all thy moss, 
While yet there's a Poet to make thee his 

Nay, more — may my Delia still give you her 
Each ev'ning, and sometimes the whole ev'n- 
ing long; 
Then, grotto, be proud k to support her white 
Then, willow, wave all thy green tops to the 

From "Love and Satire," a small volume of 
poetical correspondence between a young Lady 
and Gentleman, lately published at London : 


Accept, dear maid, the most delightful bird 
That ever Venus to her chariot bound, 

By love adopted, and by peace preferiM, 
For meekness valued, and for faith renown'd. 

A Bird, in which such rare perfections meet, 
Alone is worthy to be counted thine ; 

His beauty, fair one, is, like yours, complete, 
And his fidelity resembles mine. 


to julius, with a goose. 
Swain, I accept your all-accomplish'd Dove, 

With rapture listen to his plaintive moan, 
And vow with constancy the bird to love, 

Whose beauty thus reminds me of my own. 

I cannofprove my gratitude too soon, 
For such a mark of tenderness conferr'd ; 

So song for song be thine, and boon for boon, 
Kindness for kindness, swain,and bird for bird. 

So, the best bird that Lincoln can produce, 
My choice has singled from a timeful group ; 

Accept, sweet Bard, from me, as great a Goose 
As e'er was fatten'd in a poult'er's coop. 

Your verse the merit of the Dove displays ; 

The compliments I pay my bird are few ; 
Yet, 'tis methinks, no niggard share of praise, 

To say how strongly ho resembles you. 





It has been sometime, yes, quite a long 
time, since we have had the pleasure of 
appearing before our readers. We again 
greet you with all the cordiality and 
warmth of long separated friends, and en- 
tertain the hopes of binding each other to- 
gether with stronger and more durable 
ties of friendship and love. Are you not 
glad to meet us ? Cannot we hope to see 
our wishes realized? Although we come 
not to you laden with the choicest gems 
of literature, though no gaudy jewel decks 
the wreath that encircles our humble 
brow to dazzle the eyes of the vulgar, or 
suit the taste of the whimsical ; yet, we 
appear before you as our same old self, 
in our modest, unpretending, unadorned 
garb, to give you a hearty and sincere 
shake. Yes, we detest nice, fantastic 
garbs; though we have been accused of a 
superabundance of "ginger-bread work'' 
on our back, yet we would remind you, 
thai as noble, as honest a heart sometimes 
bea;s in the breast of a coxcomb, as in the 
rags of poverty and misfortune. We en- 
treat you then to estimate us not by our 
oak ; displace it and judge for yourselves. 
Vith this number begins the tliird vol- 
une of our University Magazine. Does it 
no startle you, reader ? The mere idea, the 
mre expectation of a Magazine- surviving 
though two volumes in the State of North 
Oolina is miraculous in the extreme, 
ad is far beyond the anticipations of the 
mst sanguine. What has been the fate 
olthe preceding Magazines published in 
Its State? Go to the doleful page of 
hitory, and you will see it; go to the 
aed, and they, with a sad countenance 

and faltering voice, will relate it to you. — 
No tear was dropped at its fate, and soon it 
will pass away- and be forgotten. To 
what can we attribute their premature 
end? Were the people so immersed in 
the dark waves of ignorance ? Were they 
so completely wrapped up in the thought 
of pecuniary pursuits that they could not 
bestow one passing glance on literature ? 
Were literary labors held in such low re- 
pute that men disdained to engage in so 
ignoble a profession ? Was there a want 
of energy, enterprise, and capacity in the 
Editors ? We can hardly think so. Then 
what was it ? It was not the proper time. 
Circumstances call forth and make the 
man ; so also circumstances call forth and 
make the Magazine. The populace were 
not sufficiently educated, knowledge had 
not shed its benign light on them, awak- 
ening them to their true interests, and 
impressing them with the great import- 
ance and necessity of an exalted cultiva- 
tion and firm establishment of Home Lit- 
erature. True, there were a few highly 
educated and talented men at that time in 
the State; men who would have done 
credit to any State or age, whose abilities 
secured them the loftiest honors in the 
gift of the people, and won them a name 
of everlasting perpetuity. But a Maga- 
zine cannot be established and long main- 
tained by a few only; it .is too heavy an 
expense; the Printer, though some are 
not aware of it, must eat as well as the 
rest of mankind, and is equally averse to 
parting with his labor without a recom- 
pense. We have not old lords among us, 
who, with their immense wealth, are capa- 



ble alone of supporting a Magazine. Here 
all power is vested in the people, and it is 
essentially necessary to the success of any 
enterprise to court the ftivor and procure 
the assistance of the people. Now is the 
accepted time. This fountain of science 
has sent forth its waters, distributed its 
small streams throughout the different 
parts of the State, soothing the savage 
nature, cultivating the rude taste of her 
inhabitants, and preparing the way for the 
reception and support of a Magazine. — 
We do not ascribe the long existence of 
our Magazine to any superior capacity in 
the Editors, to a more refined and culti- 
vated judgment in the selection of suita- 
ble articles. We are not so self-conceited, 
so arrogant, so presumptuous. We attri. 
bute it to the people, to the pens of some 
of the ablest of North Carolina's sons, who 
have exhibited a paternal care in promot- 
ing the undertaking of her young men, 
and to the energetic and undisguised ef- 
forts of our fellow students. We are in- 
debted, for the worth and permanency of 
our Magazine, to the labors of many of 
the distinguished nun both of this and 
other States. But God, in his mercy, has 
seen fit to deprive us of one of our firm- 
est and most faithful friends. The lament- 
ed Hooper now sleeps his last sleep be- 
neath the cold sod. No more will his be- 
nignant countenance shed joy and happi- 
ness on all around him, no more will his 
generous hand distribute alms to the poor 
and needy and console the bleeding heart, 
and no more will his liberal and brilliant 
pen adorn the pages of our Magazine. — 
He is gone; — the sympathies of thousands 
attended him to his last resting place, and 
the tears of many dear friends bedew his 
grave. His spirit has winged its flight to 
the mansions of celestial glory, there to 
receive the crown of his earthly labors. — 
Peace to his ashes. 

It is with bright and flattering pros- 
pects that we commence this third volume, 
and with renewed vigor and courage we 

go again to battle. Within ourselves we 
are weak, "unable to cope" with the 
many adversities that every day beset us; 
but we have friends on whom we can rely; 
friends, who will face danger in any shape 
or form, who will struggle, not for us, but . 
for the continuance of the Magazine, un- 
til the "last armed foe expires," and until 
the prophets of our speedy downfall ac- 
knowledge that they are neither " proph- 
ets nor the sons of prophets." Then let 
us not be discouraged; but rather let us 
gird on the strong armor of truth and 
justice, and, with a vab'ant arm, go forth 
to fight the enemy. 

The little " pet," the infant, placed in 
our charge by the last Editors, is growing 
rapidly, and we hope soon to resign him 
to our successors a large, healthy boy. — 
He has passed the age of "teething and 
whooping-cough," and with a little more 
substantial physic, we trust, he will soon 
gain strength, and at last go forth a man- 
He still requires considerable nursing, and' 
we are as yet uneasy, for we hear that 
children, particularly boys, frequently die 
after they are two years old. But shall 
he receive that substantial physic ? Shall 
we have a Magazine ? Shall it be said, 
that, while many of the southern collages 
have and support a Magazine, the Unirer- 
sity of North Carolina, among the firs of 
southern institutions both in point of r?e, 
wealth, worth and reputation, is too weik, 
the public too parsimonious, to maint in 
one ? Shall the second effort of her yoijjg 
men be blasted ? We hope not. Whire 
is your State pride? Old Rip is fist 
awakening from his lethargy, throwing ff 
those shackles, and will soon vie with Is 
neighbors, in literature as well as in ent<- 
prise. Then let us all work, and succes 
will finally crown our toils. Expect nt 
too much of us. Remember we are yotti j 
and inexperienced; life appears but 
sweet dream to us, and we have not y 
felt any of its hardships and privations. 
We do not even r presume to effect wo 



ders, or write anything the world will not 
"let instantly die." Scrutinize us not too 
closely; look over many of our infirmities, 
remembering they are the infirmities of 
youth. Pronounce of us like an old lady 
has done, who says, ''it is a capital thing > 
especially for boys." t: To be sure," says 
she, "there are mistakes in it, but there 
are mistakes in every thing else." That 
is the way; none of your jealous and fear- 
ful opinions. We would ride farther to 
shake that old lady's hand than of all the 
envious and fastidious readers we have in 
the world. 

The article with which we introduce 
the present number, and the third vol- 
ume of the University Magazine, the life 
of Capt. Johnston Blakely, will attract 
and command the attention of our readers. 
The author is a gentleman of established 
reputation, and the subject one of thrilling 
interest to the children of the University 
and the citizens of the State. It is copied 
by permission from the archives of the 
Historical Society. The .piece of poetry 
entitled, "The Second Wife to the First," 
is truly beautiful, and perhaps speaks the 
sentiments of many. The mere subject 
is sufficient to invite a perusal, and we will 
stand all damages. Peter Pepper Pod 
Esq., we again welcome to our columns, 
and hope he will supply us with many 
more of his beautiful productions. There 
are many articles in this number well de- 
serving the attention of all. 

Well, reader, we have got a new Pro- 
spectus out and out. Havn't you seen it 
in the papers? Judging from the Pro- 
spectus, we surmise, you think we are go- 
ing to do something in reality. Well, we 
are. If we don't, why we'll try, anyhow. 

Western Democratic Review. — Vol. 
I, No. 1, January, 1854. — Contents: — 
The Administration of Franklin Pierce; 
Poetry, Woman, and the Anglo-Saxon ; 
The Russo-Turkish Question ; "Alexander 
Smith's Life-Drama ; The War against the 
President; The American Bar; Biogragh- 

ical sketch of Gen. Tilghman A. Howard ; 
The Troll's Daughter; Editor's Table 
General Intelligence ; Commercial and Fi- 
nancial Review. 

We are indebted to the kindness of a 
friend, for the initial number of this new 
and promising- enterprise in periodical lit- 
erature. It is published at Indianapolis, 
by George P. Buell, in monthly numbers 
of 96 pages, each number embellished 
with a portrait engraved on steel, at the 
very reasonable price of $3 00 per an- 
num. With its politics we have nothing 
to do ; of its literary merits we may take 
occasion to speak more discriminatingly 
hereafter. We have to regret that our 
patronage will not justify our attempt even 
to imitate it in this respect. 

The most attractive article to us, is the 
biographical sketch of General Howard. 
He was born in the neighborhood of Pick- 
ensville, S. C, on the border of the chain 
of mountains which separates the two 
Carolinas, on the 14th November 1797. — 
From some unexplained cause, his father, 
who was a respectable clergyman of '.he 
Baptist denomination, committed him in 
infancy to the care of a half-brother, ?.Iaj. 
John McElroy, at present an aged and re- 
spectable citizen of the county of Yancy. 
His father removed to the west, and we 
believe never saw his son again until the 
latter had attained to man's estate, and 
made him a visit at his residence in Illinois*. 
About 1801, Maj. McElroy crossed the 
ridge and settled in the county of Bun- 
combe. Tilghman was then about four 
years old, and was thereafter indebted. 
under Providence, exclusively to fraternal 
kindness and training for the germs of 
learning and piety, which subsequently 
yielded such precious fruits. He contin- 
ued with his brother as a member of his 
family, and in common with his patron, 
who was a farmer in moderate circum- 
stances, and owned no slaves, was depen- 
dent upon his daily labor for his 
bread. Apart from the instruction he re- 



ceived at the fireside, his opportunities for 
improving his mind, were occasional at- 
tendance during the winter months in the 
old field schools, which the county sup- 
ported in the infancy of its settlement. — 
He learned to read and write and cipher, 
and at the age of twenty, was qualified 
to teach these elements of learning, and 
discharge the duties of a clerk in a coun- 
try store. His earliest engagement in the 
latter capacity, was in the employment of 
the late James Patton, of Asheville. At 
the close of a short term of service with 
him, Smith & Siler of the same village en- 
trusted him with a stock of goods, and 
committed to his care the entire manage- 
ment of their establishment at Newport, 
Tennessee. He spent about three years 
in their service, discharged his duties to 
their entire satisfaction, and in the mean 
time attained such a knowledge of the 
common law as justified his admission to 
the bar. He entered upon the practice of 
his profession in the obscure village where 
he resided, rose rapidly in public estima- 
tion, and was at the lime of his removal 
to Indiana, in 1830, both as a lawyer and a 
politician, one of the most prominent men 
in Tennessee. 

His subsequent career in Indiana, at the 
bar, as a member of Congress, in the well 
remembered canvass for Governor in 1840> 
and in the walks of private life, are satis- 
factorily debated in the article before us. 
In June, 1844, he was without solicitation 
appointed, by President Tyler, Charge d' 
Affairs to the Eepublic of Texas. He died 
while engaged in discharging the duties of 
this mission at Washington, then the Tex. 
an seat of government, on the 16th of Au- 
gust, in the same year, in ihe 47th year of 
Ins age. 

General Howard was a remarkable man, 
remarkable for natural ability, for the ex- 
tent of attainments made under circum- 
stances of extraordinary difficulty, and not 
less remarkable for the blamelessness of his 
private life and the purity of his christian 

walk and conversation. He deserves, and 
may receive hereafter, a more extended 
notice, than our pre-occupied pages will 
admit at present. 

His removal to, and settlement in Bun- 
combe, in 1801, has already been referred 
to. Gen. Joseph Lane, of Oregon, was 
born in the same county, in the same year. 
It is somewhat singular, that two individ- 
uals born so nearly together in point of 
time and place, should, about the same pe- 
riod, have attained such eminent distinc- 
tion in the State of Indiana. 

Last Vacation. — This winter, thus far, 
our pleasant little village has been all life 
and gaiety, and never did we spend a 
more agreeable vacation, considering the 
circumstances. Several parties were giv- 
en, but the worst of it was, we were not 
expected at very many ; but when we did 
go, we participated as much in the various 
amusements, attracted the attention of as 
many eyes, and upon the whole, enjoyed 
ourselves as much as any of the rest of the 
children. We took considerable umbrage 
at being slighted so often, we can assure 
you, and had a strong notion of turning 
over the South Building and wiping Chap- 
el Hill from off the face of the earth. Our 
village still continues to improve, and, wo 
hope, will soon be a right big town. 


In th» Editorial Table for November we 
had occasion to trace the history of the 
introduction of the manufactory of paper 
into North Carolina. It is our purpose at 
present to give a brief account of the es- 
tablishment of the press, within our bor- 

In the autumn of 1663, Sir William 
Berkley, one of the Lords Proprietors of 
Carolina, visited the province and organ- 
ized the government of the County of 
Albermakle. Eight years thereafter, in 
June 1671, in reply to inquiries from the 
Committees of the Colonies, in relation to 



Virginia, he remarked, " We have forty- 
eight parishes, and our ministers are well 
paid, and by my consent should be better, 
if they would pray oftener and preach less ; 
but ad of all other commodities, the worst 
are sent us, we have few that we can boast 
of, since the persecution in Cromwell's 
tyranny drove divers worthy men hither. 
Yet I thank God, there are no free schools' 
and no printing, and I hope we shall not 
have these hundred years, for learning has 
brought disobedience, heresy and sects, 
into the world, and printing has di- 
vulged them and libels against the best 
government." There is no reason to sup- 
pose, that there was any diversity of opin- 
ion among the Lords Proprietors, in rela- 
tion to preachingj free schools and printing, 
and it is not very surprising, that in a pro- 
vince colonized under such auspices, the 
introduction of these elements of civiliza- 
tion and civil liberty should have been 
long postponed. 

The great object sought to be attained by 
the celebrated author of the treatise on the 
human understanding, in the Fundamen- 
tal Constitution of Carolina, framed 
by him two years before the date of this 
report, was to establish a government 
most agreeable to monarchy, and to "avoid 
erecting a numerous democracy." The 
devout affection for prayer, and the pious 
horror of preaching is sufficiently explain- 
ed by the established formularies of that 
day. The tri-weekly supplication for de- 
liverance " from all sedition, privy con- 
spiracy, and rebellion ; from all false doc- 
trine, heresy and schism," was most heart- 
ily responded to by Sir William, and the 
noble founders of the infant common- 
wealth. Still more important, impressive 
and imposing, in their view, were the so- 
lemn services prescribed for the 30th Jan- 
uary, in commemoration <: of the martyr- 
dom of the blessed King Charles I, to im- 
plore the mercy of God, that neither the 
guilt of that sacred and innocent blood, 
nor those other sins by which God was 

provoked to deliver up both us and our 
King into the hands of cruel and unrea- 
sonable men, may at any time hereafter 
be visited upon us or our posterity." The 
influence wielded by preachers of treason- 
able and seditious discourses was most 
unpropitious to tyranny, but this power 
in the State, was about not merely to be 
eclipsed, but totally obscured by the elec- 
tric illuminations of the press. 

The pious and prophetic ejaculation of 
Governor Beikley, so far as Carolina was 
the subject of his orisons, was too nearly 
answered in relation to the press, and 
more than fulfilled with respect to com- 
mon schools. 

The earliest settlements on the Chowan 
probably date as far back as 1650. The 
first effort for the introduction of the press 
was made in 1746, but the enterprise was 
not accomplished until 1749. Previous 
to this time, the laws were all in manu- 
script. The revisal of 1715 had been, 
multiplied into 12 manuscript copies, one 
of which was required to be kept upon 
the Clerk's table during each precinct 
court, and to be audibly read from be- 
ginning to end by the Clerk, in open court, 
during the first term in every year. 

In 1746, (Swann's Revisal, chap. 1,) we 
have " An Act for appointing commission- 
ers to revise and print the Laws of this 
province, and for granting to his Majesty 
for defraying the charge thereof, a duty 
on wine, rum, and distilled liquors, and 
rice imported into this province." 

"I. Whereas, for want of the laws of this 
province being revised and printed, the Magis- 
trates are often at a loss how to discharge their 
duty, and the people transgress many of them 
through want of knowing the same : Where- 

II. We pray that it may be enacted, and be it 
enacted by his Excellency, Gabriel Johnston, 
by and with the advice and consent of his Majes- 
ty's Council and General Assembly of this Prov- 
ince and by the authority of the same, That the 
Honorable Edward Mosely, Esquire, Samuel 
Swann, Esq., the Honorable Enoch Hall, Esq., 



and Mr. Thomas Barker, or the majority be 
and they are hereby nominated, and appointed 
commissioners to revise and print the several 
acts of assembly in force in this province." 

The multifarious provisions of this ear- 
ly Tariff for the encouragement and pro- 
tection of the press, are comprized in 
nineteen sections. The Commissioners 
were to receive as a compensation for 
their services £60 each for the labor of 
compiling and revising the laws, to be 
paid in proclamation money. For print- 
ing, binding, lettering and delivering one 
copy to the Governor, for the use of the 
council, one to the General Assembly, 
one to the Secretary, one to the General 
Court and one to each County Court, they 
were to receive jointly £100, and to have 
the exclusive privilege of printing and 
vending the book during the term of five 
years, at a price not exceeding fifteen 
shillings per copy. To raise the contem- 
plated expenditure a duty of three pence 
per gallon, on each gallon of wine, rum, 
and distilled liquors, and three shillings 
and four pence on each 100 lbs of rice 
imported, was relied upon. 

Liberal as their provisions would seem 
to have been, they did not suffice to ac- 
complish the great purpose for which they 
were designed. The 7th chapter of the 
Acts, passed in 1748, recites that 

" Whereas, the revising and printing of the 
laws of this province, though so very much 
wanted and desired, hath hitherto met with 
unexpected delay : For remedy whereof," &c. 

The Act proceeds to confine the com- 
pensation of £60 to the Commissioner or 
Commissioners who may actually perform 
• the labor of revisal, gives and additional air 
lowance of £40, to procure an able clerk" or 
clerks to expedite the same, and increases 
the sum for which the books may be sold 
to 20s. In 1749, (Chap. Ill,) we find 
<; an Act for the encouragement of James 
Davis to set up and carry on his business 

of a printer in this province, and for oth- 
er purposes therein mentioned." He was 
required to reside in New-Berne, and "to 
print with the same type, with which his 
petition now before the House is printed;" 
the speeches and addresses at the opening 
of each session, the journals and proceed- 
ings of the House of Burgesses, and a 
copy of the laws, for each member of the 
council, and the Assembly, for each clerk 
of the Assembly, for the general court, 
and county court, and each justice of the 
peace in this province, in consideration of 
all which he was to receive the yearly sal- 
ary of £160 proclamation money. 

These provisions appear to have been 
effectual, for Martin informs us, (Vol. II, 
p. 54,) that " a printing press was this year 
(1749,) imported into the Province, and 
set up at New-Berne, by James Davis from 
Virginia ; this was a valuable acquisition, 
for hitherto the want of an establishment 
of this kind was severely felt ; the copies 
of the laws being all manuscript, were ne- 
cessarily very scarce, and it is likely faul- 
ty and inaccurate." 

The settlement of Mr. Davis in New- 
Berne, was succeeded, but not until after 
an interval of about three years, by the 
publication of the greatly needed and 
long expected revisal of the Laws. The 
task of revision seems to have been per- 
formed by two of the four Commissioners 
appointed by the Act of 1746, Col. Ed- 
ward Mosely and Samuel Swann, Esq. — 
The latter of these gentlemen, as we learn 
from the dedication, to Governor John- 
ston, alone survived the publication, " Col. 
Mosely, the other Commissioner, concern- 
ed in the collecting, revising, and printing 
the Laws in force in this province, being 
dead." The volunie closes with the acts 
passed at the session, which commenced 
at Bath Town, on the 31st March, 1752, 
and issued from the press at some period 
during that year. It was a small folio of 
392 pages, in eluding title page and index, 
was printed on good type and good paper, 



plainly but neatly bound. It is familiarly 
known as the Yellow Jacket, from the hue 
of the binding, but is ordinarily referred 
to as Swann's revisal. The amount of 
matter contained in it, is something more 
than is comprised in the same number of 
pages of the Revised. Statutes, and the 
price at which it T/as sold appears to have 
been reasonable. It was the first book 
printed in the State, and one of the very 
tew copies now extant (perhaps not more 
than half a dozen) is before us. 

Davis continued to fill the office of pub- 
lic printer until the removal of the seat of 
government from New-Berne to Wilming- 
ton in 1764. In the summer of this year 
Andrew Stuart was induced by the offer 
of public patronage to setup a press in 
.the latter town. 

Davis having no longer public employ- 
ment, directed his attention to private en- 
terprises, and to the just claim to consid- 
eration as the founder of the press of 
North Carolina, added that of pioneer of 
periodical literature. The first publication 
of this character which made its appear- 
ance in the province was " The North 
Carolina Magazine or Universal In- 
telligencer." From Friday June 1st to 
Friday June 8th, 1764. It was a small 
quarto of 8 pages, divided (without rules) 
into two columns. The 5th No. from 
June 29th to July 6th, may be taken as 
presenting an average specimen of the 
work. The two first pages are occupied 
with a dissertation (not original) on the 
different ages of the world, from the gol- 
den to the pinch-beck. The next two af- 
ford an extract from some Roman history, 
in relation to the events which occurred 
immediately after the assassination of 
Caesar. The next two pages and a half 
present a portion of the III Discourse of 
the Bishop of Salisbury, on the use and 
intent of prophecy in the several ages of 
the world. An article headed — News. — 
London East India Rouse, April At\ 
fills a column, equal to half a page. The 

remaining page and a half are given to ad- 
vertisements. Under a line at the close 
of the last page the terms of subscriptions 
are stated as follows : "Newbeen, print- 
ed, by James Davis, by whom all persons 
may be supplied with this Magazine at 4 
D. a number. Advertisement's are in- 
serted at three shillings the first week and 
two shillings for every continuance. Any 
single number may be had to complete 
setts at 4 D." The printed page, exclusive 
of the margin, was 8x5 1-2 inches, and 
each number contained about as much 
reading matter as twelve pages of the 
University Magazine. Subsequent num- 
bers present a few items of foreign, and 
sometimes of domestic, intelligence. A- 
mong the political articles, the famous 
North-Briton No. 65 is copied in tie 14th 
and 15th Nos. At the close of the year 
1764, a new volume commenced, with a 
dimunition of one half in size without any 
reduction in price. How long the Maga- 
zine continued to be published, we have 
no means of ascertaining. It was succeed- 
ed, however, by The North Carolina Ga- 
etts, which was continued until some 
time after the beginning of the Revolu- 

Shortly after the commencement of 
Davis's enterprize in the establishment of 
the Magazine, towards the first of Sep- 
tember, as Martin informs us, Andrew 
Stuart issued the first number of the 
" North Carolina Gazette and Week- 
ly Post Boy." " The town of Wilming- 
ton having the advantage of a good navi- 
gation 1 , being often visited by European 
vessels, and having a regular trade with 
Charleston, the latter paper contained the 
earlier and more general intelligence." 
How long this paper was sustained is un- 
known, as no copy of it, or its name-sake 
at New-Berne, has ever fallc ** within the 
range of our researches. 

We have before us, through the kind- 
ness of the venerable Dr. Armand Da 
Rossett, of Wilmington, the "Supple- 




46, 48, 50, 51 and 52. The last of these 
bears date, November 22d, 1770, from 
which we infer that the publication com- 
menced about the 22d Nov. 1769. The 
following extract from the proceedings of 
the "Wilmington Committee (p. 17,) on 
the 30th January, 1775, contains the clos- 
ing history of the paper. 

"Mr. Adam Boyd, having applied for en- 
couragement to his news-paper (some time ago 
laid aside,) it was resolved that the Committee, 
so far as their influence extended, would sup- 
port him on the following terms : 

" That he, Mr. Boyd, should weekly contin- 
ue a newspaper, denominated the Cape Fear 
Mercury, of 21 inches wide, 17 inches long, 3 
columns on a page, and of the small pica or 
long primer letter, and in return receive his 
payment at the following periods, viz : ten shil- 
lings at the delivery of the first number, ten 
shillings at the expiration of a year and to be 
paid ten shillings at the end of every succeed- 
ing six months thereafter." 

Boyd was a pious man, a good citizen 
and a sterling whig. It was in the Cape 
Fear Mercury, it will be remembered, that 
Governor Martin first met with " a most 
infamous publication importing to be the 
resolves of a set of people, styling them- 
selves a Committee for the county of 
Mecklenburg, most traitrously declaring 
the entire dissolution of the laws, govern- 
ment and constitution of this country." — 
The prophetic forebodings of Governor 
Berkley were now fearfully realized, — 
learning had brought disobedience, here- 
sy and sects into the world, and printing 
had divulged them and libels against the 
best government. Thus closes the ante- 
revolutionary history of the press. The 
history of Queen's College, the Fanuel 
Hall of the South, remains to be written. 

After the discontinuance of the Cape 
Fear Mercury and the North Carolina Ga- 
zette, at an early period of the revolution, 
there was no newspaper in the State, un- 
til Thursday the 28th of August, 1783.— 

On that day Robert Keith issued at New- 
Berne, the first number of the " North 
Carolina Gazette, or Impartial Intel- 
ligencer, and Weekly General Adver- 

It was printed with clear type, on a 
sheet of fair paper, neither as long nor as 
wide by two inches as the supplement to 
the Southern Weekly Post. We subjoin, 
as calculated to convey a clearer idea of 
the character of the paper than any dis- 
cription we might attempt, the Pro- 
spectus, and some accompanying editorial 
notices, which make up, more than the 
sixth of the number from which it is taken. 

The North- Carolina Gazette, published in 
Newbern, is hereby offered to the Publick on 
the following Terms : 

I. — Said Gazette shall consist of a full sheet 
of Demy Paper, of the best quality that can be 
procured, and printed upon neat Types. 

II. — It shall contain the Earliest and most 
Authentic Intelligence, Foreign and Domestic, 
that may possibly be obtained ; and any Politi- 
cal Pieces calculated to promote the Good of 
Society; or other Performances in Prose or 
verse, either interesting or entertaining which 
Ladies or Gentlemen of Genius may offer to 
the Press : And in case of a Scarcity of these, 
care shall be taken to supply the Deficiency 
with Extracts from the best approved Authors, 
which may be judged most suitable to the 

III. — It shall be published on the Thursday t 
throughout the Year ; (unless some unknown 
Circumstance may render an Alteration expedi- 
ent) when Subscribers may be furnished with 
their Papers, either at the Printing Office near 
the Church or have them directed to whatever 
Place they may appoint. 

IV.— The annual Price THREE DOLLARS to 
Subscribers, they paying one Half thereof at 
the time of Subscribing, and the other at the 
End of the Year ; and likewise for every Year's 
Continuance, unless Times alter for the better, 
and admit the Gazette cheaper ; And in case 
of Subscribers Removal, their Rights shall be 
transferable. The weekly Price to Non-sub- 
scribers, EIGHT PENCE, North Carolina cur- 

SUBSCRIPTIONS for said Gazette taken in , 
by John More, in Edenton, John, Duhois, in 
Wilmington, Thomas Davis, Printer, in Ilali- 



fax, and by a number of other Gentlemen, in 
different Parts of this extensive country; and 
also by the subscriber, Robert Keith, at said 
Printing Office, in Newbern; who must not 
only have the money proposed in Advance, but 
the subscribers' Names, and Places of Abode, 
before they can expect to receive the Papers, 
which are to be put up in Packets, especially 
those which go to any Distance and be left 
where it may best suit such subscribers. 

As there has not been a Newspaper publish- 
ed in North Carolina for several years last past, 
no Doubt the greater Number of it's Citizens 
are very sensible that is a great Disadvantage 
to themselves and the State in general, having 
learned the Worth by the Want thereof: It is 
natural to suppose all such will cheerfully en- 
courage the subscriber in this attempt to sup- 
ply their Deficiencies ; especially when they 
are informed that he is determined to pay. so 
much Attention to this Vehicle of Knowledge, 
as to make it both useful and entertaining : — 
But being lately from Pennsylvania, he hath 
not the Pleasure and Advantage of an exten- 
sive Acquaintance through this and the Adja- 
cent States, will therefore acknowledge the Fa- 
vor done by any Gentlemen of Character and 
Activity, who may procure Subscriptions for 
said Paper in their Neighborhoods, on the 
above conditions, as soon as may be, and send 
them in to him. 

As there are no established Posts ride from 
this Town to the interior and upper Parts of 
this State, where are the greater Number of its 
Inhabitants, it is highly probable, that if some 
Gentlemen of enterprising Genius should un- 
dertake to convey Newspapers, Letters, Ac, 
that Way, the generous publick would make it 
much to their interest. 

N. B. Here follows a Copy of the Preamble 
to the SUBSCRIPTION for the Nohth Caroli- 
na Gazette ; which may be transcribed by any 
Gentlemen who are kind enough to procure 
Subscriptions, and have not papers for that pur- 

We, who hereunto subscribe our Names, do 
hereby promise to pay, or cause to be paid, an- 
nually, to Robert Keith, of Newbem, Printer, or 
to his Heirs, or Assigns, the just and full Sum 
of Three Spanish Milled Dollars, for the 
North Carolina Gazette, which he is to print 
weekly ; one Half of said Sum in Advance at 
the Time of Subscribing, and the other at the 
End of the Tear : As Witness our Hands this 
28th Day of July, Anno Bom., 1783. 

\* The Subscriber would immediately take 

a couple of Lads, fourteen or fifteen Years of 
Age, of good Character, Genius and Education, 
as Apprentices to the Printing Business, on the 
usual Terms that such young Gentlemen are 
instructed in that genteel occupation. 

*** All Kinds of Blanks and other Printing 
Work done by the Subscriber, in the neatest 
manner, and the most reasonable Terms; — 
Where may be had, at present, a few Books on 
Divinity, viz., Edwards on Original Sin, Bates 
on the Divine Attributes, a choice Collection of 
Hymns, &c. And for the Use of Schools, Tes- 
taments, Spelling-books, Primmers, Writing- 
paper, &c. &c. 


This Gazette is offered to the publick for three 
Spanish Milled dollars per annum ; but, from 
the scarcity of that hind of money in this coun- 
try at present, some who are desirous of having 
the paper complain that they cannot obtain it. — 
The Printers hereof, willing to remove every dif- 
ficulty out of their subscribers' way, which would 
not bring greater upon themselves, propose to 
take the value of the above sum, in any other cur- 
rent money of this State, from those who cannot 
afford the specie, which would suit much better 
to procure paper, &c, from abroad. 

The Printers hereof will acknowledge them- 
selves obliged to any gentlemen, either masters of 
vessels, established posts, or transient travellers 
as well as inhabitants of this town and vicinity, 
for any peice of intelligence worthy of a place in 
this paper. 

Newbern : Printed for R. KEITH and COM- 
PANY, near the Church, where subscriptions, 
at Three Dollars per annum, Essays, Articles 
of Intelligence, &c, for this Gazette, are grate- 
fully received. 

Advertisemtnts, of no greater length than 
the Breadth of a column, are inserted Three 
Weeks for one Dollar; and for every Week'3 
continuance after, one Fourth of a Dollar; 
those of a larger size are inserted in the same 

How long Keith and company contin- 
ued to conduct the paper we have no meaDS 
of ascertaining. We hare before us the 
" North- Carolina Gazette" printed by 
F. X. Martin, at New-Berne, Saturday 
June 7th, 1794, No. 439, Vol. 9. 

We subjoin a list of newspapers estab- 
lished anterior to the publication of the 
Raleigh Register, by Joseph Gales, in 
the autumn of 1799. 



"The State Gazette of Worth- Caroli- 
na" by Hodge &. Wills, about t e 1st 
January, 1786, No. 156, Vol. Ill, now be- 
fore us, is dated Edenton, Thursday Jan. 
1st, 1789. 

" The North- Carolina Gazette" printed 
by Robert Ferguson for Thomas Davis, 
at Hillsborough, first No. issued about the 
1st January, 1786. 

" Fayetteville Gazette" Monday, 24th 
August, 1789, Selby & Howard. 

" Wilmington Gazette." 

" The North- Carolina Journal" Wed- 
nesday, July 23d, 1793, Halifax, Hodge 
& Wills. 

" The Fayetteville Minerva" establish- 
ed by Hodge & Boylan, early in 1796, 
and removed to Raleigh. We have be- 
fore us " The North- Carolina Minerva 
and Raleigh Advertiser" No. 176, Vol. 
IV, published Tuesday, August 27th, 1799. 

" The North-Carolina Mercury and 
Salisbury Advertiser" by Frances Cow- 
pee, No. 104, Vol. II, is dated Thursday, 
May 1, 1800. 

Some <>f our contemporaries will proba- 
bly be surprised to find a newspaper in 
existence as far west as Salisbury before 
there was a press in Raleigh, and that 
Hillsborough has precedence of the poli- 
tical metropolis, in this respect, by a period 
of more than 13 years. The North- Caro- 
lina Journal, published by Abraham 
Hodge at Halifax, had more celebrity and 
wider circulation, than any paper in the 
Slate, previous to the establishment of the 
Raleigh Register. It, in common with all 
the papers in the State, was printed on a 
sheet of considerably smaller dimensions 
than would be made by the folding half 
of the sheet on which any of the larger 
class of Raleigh newspapers is at present 
printed. There were three columns on 
each page, a nd the columns of the 
Journal, the largest of all, were 14, ft 
inches in length and 2.8 in width. 

The history of the Wilmington press, in 
proportion to its importance is less known 

than that of any other portion of the State, 
and the veteran Editor of the Commercial 
who conducted, and we believe establish- 
ed the Cape Fear Recorder, more than 38 
years ago (we are unwilling to attempt 
greater precision) would greatly oblige 
us, and our brethren of the type by tra- 
cing it for our readers. 

Few persons have ever lived in North 
Carolina .whose auto-biography, if he left 
one, would be more interesting and valua- 
ble, than' that of the late Joseph Gales. 
If no such memorial exists, his biography 
ought to be written by the Editor of the 
Fayetteville Observer. A sketch of his 
history, from anyone capable of doing jus- 
tice to the subject, would be a very accep- 
table contribution to the pages of this 
Magazine. A similar sketch is due to the 
long continued and successful services of 
Abraham Hodge. Will not the Editor of 
the Standard undertake to supply it ? 

Magazines. — The first periodical which 
issued from the North-Carolina press was 
" The North-Carolina Magazine or Uni- ' 
versal Intelligencer" oi which a sufB- 
ciently minute account is given in the 
foregoing article. 

In August, 1813, Cowpee & Cridek 
published at Salisbury the first, number 
of " The North-Carolina Magazine, Po- 
litical, Historical, and Miscellaneous." — 
We have in our possession the numbers 
for August, September and October, only, 
and suppose the enterprise did not extend 
to a second volume. It was a pamphlet of 
32 pages, bes-ides the cover, which was of 
the same texture with the body of the 
-work, contained almost no original matter, 
and was made up almost exclusively of 
such articles as constituted the staple of 
the ordinary newspapers of the period.— 
The prices current at Fayetteville, Wil- 
mington, Petersburg and Charleston, 
were given upon the closing page of each 



In 1842, the students of this University 
established " The University Magazine." 
It was neatly printed, each number con- 
tained 42 pages, and was filled almost en- 
tirely with original papers, written by the 
editors and other students. It was pub- 
lished by Thomas Loking, at the office of 
the "Independent," at Raleigh, and de- 
served a wider circulation, and a more per- 
manent support than was awarded to it 
by the impartial public. ^ 

'' The Evergreen" at Ashborough, of 
which we happen to have no copy at hand, 
came next in point of time. It was pro- 
jected by the Rev. Benjamin Craven, at 
present President of Normal College- 

Our own Magazine is the fifth test of 
this kind to which, so far as our knowl- 
edge extends, the literary discrimination 
and generous liberality of the people of 
North Carolina has been subjected. We 
do not claim to have effected a great deal 
during the brief period of our service in 
the Republic of Letters, or to intimate 
that the reward which has crowned our 
exertions is not quite equal to our merits. 
And yet it is something to have produc- 
ed the only work of the kind, which in 
the two centuries, since the first perma- 
nent settlement of the State, has lived 
through a second volume, and entered 
with increasing strength and hope, upon 
a third. With grateful feelings for those 
who have sustained and cheered us in our 
onward course, we are altogether dispos- 
ed to thank God and take courage, — to 
look the future in the face with buoyant 
hopes and aspirations ! 

It gives us pleasure to insert the no- 
tice of the marriage of another one of our 
quondam college mates. It is discour- 
aging, for we are fearful that they will 
marry all the young ladies and leave us 
the old ones. We cannot imagine what 
it is about the last Senior class that 
charms the ladies so. We didn't think 
them handsome : no, not half as hand — 

as we. x^ever mind, we'll soon be 
out in the world, and if they don't have 
formidable rivals we don't know who 
will : 

Married, in "Warren County, on Wednesday 
the 2nd of November, 1853, by the Rev. Dr. L. 
L. Smith, of Norfolk, Va., Mr. R. T. Arrington, 
of Warrenton, to Miss Bettie, daughter of Dr. 
Henry L. Plummer. 

May no cloud appear to mar their fu- 
ture happiness. Send along your good 

Wz are enabled, through the kindness 
of our President, to place before our 
readers a piece of poetry written many 
years past ; which, for its sweetness and 
simplicity, will draw the admiration of all, 
and perhaps, will awaken in some, recol- 
lections " around which memory loves to 

To the memory of Old Grey alias Spread 
Eagle, who departed this scene of trou- 
ble on the 17th April, in an apoplectic fit, 
much lamented by the citizens of Chapel 
Hill, but particularly by the Students, 
who for a number of years experienced 
his services, in gratitude for which they 
offer the following testimonial of their res- 
pect and sorrow : 

Soft be the turf where rests thy aged head, 
And sweet thy slumbers, much lamented 

May flowers perennial deck thy lowly grave, 
And heaven's soft dews thy sacred hillock 

Oft shall the pensive student lingering near 
Thy house of rest, bestow the passing tear, 
Think of thy former worth, thy pristine grace, 
Thy fair proportioas and delightful pace ; 
Clean with his knife the letters of thy praise, 
And sing thy merits in repeated lays. 

J. A. M. 

Our Contributors. — The contributions 
for this number have been more abundant 
than usual, and we are glad to see an in- 
creased zeal among our friends and fellow- 
students. We return our sincere thanks 



to all our contributors to the last volume, 
and hope they will continue their liberali- 
ty. Zexo we are forced to let drop un- 
der our table. We fear he has chosen a 
subject above his capacity, or at least he 
has not done justice to it, or the poetry 
has not to him. Yet he need not despair ; 
he writes well, and we think would better 
succeed in prose. And here let us recom- 
mend to one and all the necessity of first 
writing prose well before you endeavor to 
write poetry. Poetry consists not alone 
in rhyming, as some may suppose. Then 
do not send us the result of your first 
poetical attempt, for if you do, it is mighty 
apt to be rejected. 

Lecs is trite. His arguments are com- 
mon and savor too much of the inexperi- 
enced. Try again. 

H. writes well but is rather too severe 

He contains much truth, but his article is 
unsuitable for the Magazine. 

Youth is youthful in the extreme, and 
we think him rather young to have lie 
Cupid's dart. "We are unable to say 
whether he still has a heart. But hear 
him about it : 

'Tis all that I can give to thee, 
Tho' pierced with many a \|Ound ; 

Accept it as it used to be, 

When it was in my breast first found. 

Fellow Students: — We are glad to see 
you looking so well; we welcome you back 
to your old home. We hope you ha e 
spent a pleasant vacation, have seen Miss 

, and we also hope you have brought 

the " wherewith " to pay the printer, which 
you can do, as soon as convenient, by 
calling on W. C. Nichols. 

JKF" Owing to the great irregularity of -he mails, a correction, intended to be made in the 
caption of the Sketch of Capt. Blakely, did not reach the office of publication until after the 
form containing the article was printed. The title should be 




Author of Traditions and Reminiscences of the Revolution. 



Vol. III. 

MARCH, 1854. 

No. 2. 


The History of the British Colonies 
in North America is connected with the 
History of those great events, which 
since the revival of learning in the fif- 
teenth century, have changed the intel- 
lectual character. and moral condition of 
nations. Religious persecution contri- 
buted more than any other cause to the 
planting of the Colonies ; yet to under- 
stand the character of the Colonists, 
and of the extraordinary empire which 
they and their posterity have reaied 
up, many other things are to be taken 
into view ; and there is no period of 
history entitled to more minute exami- 
nation and study, than that which ex- 
hibits the various causes that led to. the 
discovery of this Continent, the plant- 
ing of the British Colonies, their rise 
and progress. It includes the history 
of modern literature, of science and the 
arts since the revival of letters, of the 
schism of the Protestants from the 
Church of Rome, and that of the dis- 
senters from the Church of England, of 
the progress of personal freedom, of 
civil, religious and political liberty, and 
of representative Government. These 
subjects, if exhibited in detail, would 
Vol. Ill— 25. 

fill many volumes ; it will comport with 
our plan to set forth only general facts 
and general views. 

Italy had the honor of dispelling the 
darkness which spread over Europe.up-! 
on the fall of the Western Empire.— 
The commerce carried on by her mari- 
time States improved the state of man- 
ners, relaxed the rigours of the feudal 
system, and introduced a turbulent lib- 
erty, that gave activity to the mind and 
energy to character. These qualities 
were exhibited no less in the cultivation 
of letters than in the enterprises of war. 
Florence took the lead in the improve- 
ments of the age, and under the patron- 
age and protection of the House of 
Medici, the learned men of Italy, and 
some from Constantinople, assembled 
in that city and devoted themselves to 
classical learning, to the study of a new 
philosophy, to polite literature and the. 
arts. A taste for the latin classics be- 
gan to be cherished in Italy as early as 
the middle of the fourteenth century, 
and towards the close of that century, 
the study of the Greek language was 
introduced. After a short period of 
neglect, it was revived with ardour in, 



the beginning of the fifteenth century, 
and taught in many of the cities of 
Italy. A taste for Greek and Roman 
literature became general ; the collec- 
tion of manuscripts became the occupa- 
tion of learned men, whose labors were 
rewarded by the munificence of patrons 
and the applause of rivals in the same 
pursuit. Italy, France, Germany and 
England, were travelled over in search 
of Roman manuscripts; Constantinople, 
Asia Minor, and other countries of the 
East were visited for the purpose of 
collecting Greek manuscripts : and mod- 
ern ages are indebted to the enthusiasm 
of die learned men of Italy in the four- 
teenth and fifteenth centuries, for re- 
covering from oblivion nearly all the 
Latin and Greek authors, that have 
come down to our times. 

This fondness for ancient literature 
gra ually unshackled the human mind 
accustomed it to more free enquiry, and 
prepared it for the reception of more 
useful knowledge. These fortunate re- 
sults were accelerated by the introduc- 
tion of the platonic philosophy. The 
philosophy of Aristotle had for many 
centuries held dominion and operated 
like an incubus in the Universities and 
public schools of Italy. The spirit of 
that philosophy had no tendency to 
elevate the mind. Its dogmas had 
no relation to the common duties of 
life. Its logic prescribed a course of 
reasoning that conducted the mind to 
no useful contusions, tramelled it with 
rules and employed its energies upon 
frivqlous subjects. True philosophy 
has three objects in view; the first, to 
inspire the mind with elevated senti- 
ments and thus lay the foundation of 
*m exalted morality ; the second, to 

teach to man his duties in his relig' 
ious and social relations ; the third 
to teach him those principles of correc. 
reasoning, which shall keep him cleai 
of the mazes of sophistry and conduct 
him to truth in the various branches ol 
knowledge. The philosophy of Aristo 
tie, as taught by the schoolmen, ha<i 
neither of these objects in view ; ancj 
nothing contributed more to continue 
the ignorance of the middle ages, than 
the ascendancy which this pnilosoplry 
had obtained in the Universities of Eu- 
rope. The philosophy of Plato had as 
little relation to the duties and concern;! 
of life as, that of Aristotle ; but it w» 
free from ridiculous dogmas and frivo- 
lous logic, and its professed object was 
to inspire the mind with exalted senti- 
ments, by raising it to the contempla- 
tion of the supreme excellence of the 
deity, and placing the chief happiness 
of man in such contemplations. The 
study of this new philosophy was intro- 
duced into Italy by some learned Greeks 
from Constantinople; its moral and in- 
tellectual influence was soon felt ; Cos- 
mo de Medici had the wisdom to per- 
ceive its beneficial tendency, and estab- 
lished an academy at Florence for instruc- 
tion in its doctrines. These doctrines dai- 
ly became more popular, and acquired 
strength by their intrinsic excellence 
over those of the schoolmen. The cap- 
ture of Constantinople by the Turks in 
1453, drove to Italy many new disciples 
of the Platonic philosophy, and al- 
though they were unable to introduce 
it into the public schools and seminaries 
of learning, they explained its princi- 
ples in public discourses, and thus 
opened new sources of thought, present- 
ed new subjects of enquiry, and gave 



useful examples of boldness in attack- 
ing long received opinions. 

Tlie progress of this philosophy gave 
alarm to the clergy, who perceived that 
the freedom of enquiry which it promo- 
ted, and the general tendency of its 
doctrines were no less dangerous to 
their own authority than to that of 
Aristotle; and as policy induced them 
to keep the scriptures concealed from 
the people in a dead language, lest the 
truths of the gospel might supplant the 
errors of the church, and its light dispel 
the darkness < f superstition, so they 
were anxious to arrest the progress of 
a philosophy, the sublime doctrines of 
which excited the admiration and rever- 
ence of the people ; and Pope Clement 
V1IT, was warned by Cardinal Bellar- 
mine, of the danger of shewing any fa- 
vor to a philosopher whose opinions ap- 
proached so nearly to the truths of the 

The authority of Aristotle was shak- 
en, but not broken down, by the disci- 
ples of the Platonic Philosophy. It 
was gradually undermined by the diffu- 
sion of knowledge, which prepared so- 
ceity for a renunciation of philosophical 
as well as the theological opinions long 
consecrated by time. It perished in'the 
storms of the Protestant reformation, 
and its ruin, by opening the way for the 
inductive philosophy of Bacon, contrib- 
uted as much to the progress of science, 
as the reformation itself to the progress 
of Christian truth. 

The collection of ancient manuscripts 
was followed by the establishment of 
public libraries, for the double purpose 
of preserving the manuscripts, and ren- 
dering them accessible to the learned. 

it required a princely estate either to 
purchase original manuscripts or procure 
copies. Niccolo Niccoli founded the 
first public library in Europe. He spent 
his life and exhausted his fortune in col- 
lecting ancient manuscripts. He died 
in 1436, and by his will, gave his libra- 
ry, consisting of eight hundred volumes 
of Latin, Greek and Oriental Works, to 
Curators, for the use of the public.- — 
Cosmo de Medici was his patron and 
friend ; he paid his debts, took the di- 
rection of his manuscripts, and placed 
them for the public use in the Domini- 
can Monastery of St. Marco, at Florence. 
The great wealth of Cosmo, and his ex- 
tensive mercantile connexions, gave him 
advantages over others of his age, in 
procuring ancient manuscripts, particu- 
ularly from Arabia and India. He was 
a Florentine merchant, who, says Gib- 
bon, "governed the republic without 
arms and without a title. He was the 
father of a line of princes, whose name 
and age are almost synonimous with 
the restoration of learning ; his credit 
was ennobled into fame ; his riches were 
dedicated to the service of mankind ; , 
he corresponded at once with Cairo and 
London, and a cargo of Indian spices, 
and Greek books, were often imported in 
the same vessel." The works which he 
collected, formed the beginning of the 
most celebrated library of the fifteenth 
century. It was greatly enlarged by 
the liberality of his descendants, and 
under his grandson Lorenzo, took the 
name'of the Laurentian Library, a name 
which it bears to this day. 

The example of Cosmo in founding 
the Laurentian Library, was imitated 
by his cotemporary and friend, Nicholas 

The art of printing was unknown, and V, who during a pontificate of eight 



years, founded the library of the Vati- 
can, and enriched it with upwards of 
five thousand volumes. The extensive 
collections of books gave new facilities 
to the learned men of Italy in prosecu- 
ting their studies ; their ardor increased 
with these facilities ; manuscripts were 
copied, their defects corrected, and their 
text arranged in proper order. Whilst 
this ardor was at its height, the art of 
printing was invented ; and within six- 
teen years after the establishment of 
the first public library in Europe, and 
within seven years after the founding of 
the library of the Vatican, a copy of 
the Bible was printed. The art of 
printing was invented in Germ, ny, but 
it was soon introduced, improved, and 
brought to perfection in Italy, where its 
utility was immediately perceived and 
appreciated. It superceded the tedious 
and laborious process of copjing in 
manuscript. Copies of books multi- 
plied, private libraries began to be form- 
ed, books became accessible to the com- 
mon people, new discussions arose and 
freedom of enquiry advanced. 

The literary and religious controver- 
sies of this age sustained and promoted 
the freedom of enquiry. Italy was ag- 
itated by the disputes of her philoso- 
phers concerning the principles of the 
platonic philosophy; and all Europe 
had engaged in the questions, whether 
Avignon or Rome should be the seat of 
the Holy See, whether Urban VI, or 
Clement VII, Benedict XIII, Gregory 
XII, or Alexander V, was the true Vi- 
car of Christ. The States of Europe 
took different sides in these questions, 
which were discussed with bitterness 
and zeal, and with little respect for the 
papal authority. Pope Gregory XI, 

upon whose death, in 1380, these ques" 
tions began to arise, ha I witnessed du- 
ring his pontificate, the efforts of John 
Wickliffe, to subvert the doctrines o. 
the established church. Wickliffe was 
a secular Priest, of learning and talents 
and possessed an enthusiasm that was 
indispensable in combating superstition. 
He denied the supremacy of tin; church 
of Rome, contended that the church 
was dependant on the State and ought 
to be reformed by it when necessary. 
He denied the real presence of Christ 
in the Sacrament, maintained that the 
Scriptures were the only rule of faith, 
that the clergy ought to be answerable 
to the civil power for their crimes and 
to possess no property: that Monastic 
vows had no merit, that numerous cere- 
monies in worship were hurtful to pie- 
ty, and that oaths were unlawful. He 
asserted the doctrine of predestination, 
and that all things were subject to fate 
and destiny. Various events had oc- 
curred before this time to weaken the 
reverence of the people of England for 
the established church, and they lent a 
willing ear to t he doctrines of Wickliffe. 
He was indefatigable in preaching and 
writing, made many converts, and gave 
such alarm to the clergy that pope 
Gregory XL, issued a bull for taking 
him into custody and examining into 
his doctrines. Wickliffe had prudence, 
but was deficient in the intrepidity 
which a great reformer should possess, 
and which so eminently distinguished 
Martin Luther : and although the Duke 
of Lancaster, who then governed the 
kingdom, and Lord Peircy, the marshal, 
protected him upon his first trial, and 
for many years afterwards, his fortitude 
gave way before the incessant exertions 



of the clergy, who harrassed him with 
trials, until lie explained away his doc- 
trines so as to render them inoffensive. 
His weakness did not seriously retard 
the reformation that he had commenced : 
the zeal of his followers was seconded 
b}^ the aversion which the people enter- 
tained against the clergy, and one half 
of the kingdom became converts to his 
opinions. The activity and artifices of 
the clergy at length arrested the pro- 
gress of opinions which threatened their 
authority and. wealth with destruction. 
Convinced that without the aid of the 
civil power, the heresy of Wickliffe 
could not be suppressed, they applied to 
Parliament for help. The King and 
the Peers came into their views ; the 
Commons evinced a different spirit, and 
were more disposed to impose re- 
straints than to arm them with addi- 
tional authority. But in 1381, the cler- 
gy contrived to get an act passed and 
to have it enrolled without the consent 
of the Commons, requiring sheriffs to 
apprehend preachers of heresy and their 
abettors : and in 1400, another act au- 
thorising the bishops to imprison all 
persons suspected of heresy, to try them 
in the spiritual court, and if they proved 
obstinate heretics or relapsed, the spirit- 
ual judge was to call the sheriff of the 
county or the chief magistrate of the 
town, to be present when the sen- 
tence of condemnation was pronounced, 
and immediately to deliver the condemn- 
ed person to the secular magistrate, 
who was to cause hi in to be burnt to 
death in some elevated place in the 
sight of the people. Armed with this 
act of Parliament, the clergy commenc- 
ed and carried on for many years, n 
cruel persecution against the followers 

of Wickliffe, then called Lollards, many 
of whom were tried condemned ana pub- 
licly burnt. Arundel, archbishop of Can- 
terbury, took the lead in this persecution. 
The persons suspected of heresy were 
arrested and taken before him and then 
underwent a long examination. The 
heresies most commonly alledged were: 
1. A refusal to worship the cross. 2. 
A denial of the doctrine of transubstan- 
tiation. 3. A denial of the power of 
Priests to forgive sins. 4. A denial of 
the supremacy of the church of Rome. 
5. A refusal to go on pilgrimages to holy 
places, there to worship relics of saints, 
apostles, martyrs and confessors, ap- 
proved by the church of Rome. An 
attempt to explain away a heresy was 
taken as clear proof of guilt. Sir Wil- 
liam Sawtor was accused of two here- 
sies, refusing to worship the cross and 
denying the real presence of Christ in 
the sacrament. On his trial, he con- 
sented to pay an inferior vicarious kind 
of worship to the cross, on account of 
him who died upon it. But this was 
not satisfactory. He acknowledged the 
real presence of Christ in the sacrament? 
and that after the words of consecration 
were pronounced, the bread became the 
true spiritual bread of life. He was 
told, this was not sufficient, and under- 
went an examination of three hours 
upon the subject. Archbishop Arundel 
then urged him to profess his belief — 
"That after consecration, the substance 
of the bread and wine no longer re- 
mained, but was converted into the sub- 
stance of the body and blood of Christ, 
which were as really and truly in their 
proper substance and nature in the sa- 
crament, as they weie in the womb of 
the Virgin Mary, as they hung upon 



the cross, as they lay in the grave, and 
as they reside in heaven." Sawtor de- 
clared that "whatever might be the 
consequence, he could neither under- 
stand nor believe that doctrine." The 
archbishop pronounced him to be an 
obstinate heretic, degraded him from 
his clerical orders, and delivered him 
over to the mayor and sheriff of Lon- 
don, to be publicly burnt. He met his 
fate with firmness and had the honor 
of bung the first person in England, 
who suffered death, for maintaining the 
doctrines of the reformation. 

Arundel continued this persecution 
until his death, and his example was 
followed by Chichely his successsor ; 
by whose influence Parliament passed 
an act in 1415, declaring that the chan- 
cellor, the judges of both benches, and 
of assize, justices of the peace, sheriffs, 
mayors and bailiffs, should take an oath 
at their admission into office, to do eve- 
ry thing in their power to extirpate all 
Lollards out of the kingdom, and assist 
the ordinaries in prosecuting them, — 
The public execution of man}' respecta- 
ble prelates, and of Lord Cobham, then 
at the head of the party, and one of the 
most virtuous rnd distinguished men of 
his age, struck terror into the followers 
of Wickliffe, and made them conceal 
their opinions to save their lives. Wick- 
liffe diil not live to witness these execu- 
tions, and to admire the fortitude of 
men, who suffered at the stake for main- 
taining his doctrines: doctrines which 
are now maintained by all" the Protes- 
tant churches. 

Although the clergy, aided by the 
strong arm of the secular power, over- 
awed the reformers, the opinions of 
Wickliffe were cherished in secret, in 

many parts of England, and openly 
avowed in the kingdom of Bohemia. — 
The University of Oxford had favoured 
those opinions, and some students from 
Bohemia becoming converts, propagat- 
ed their opinions upon their return home* 
with such success, that in 1428, the 
court of Rome became alarmed, and 
(the Pope) published a bull command- 
ing solemn procession to be made, on 
the first Sunday of every month, in all 
churches and church yards, in order to 
draw down the vengeance of heaven on 
the heretical Bohemians; and proclaim- 
ed a crusade against them, granting the 
pardon of sins and the happiness of 
heaven to all who died in the expedi- 
tion. The Emperor Sigismond became 
the champion of the Holy See, in con- 
ducting this crusade: princes Mid pre- 
lates repaired to his standard. They 
were met in battle by the Bohemians 
and defeated. The sagacity of the 
Pope perceived in the continuance ol 
this war, the certain extension of the 
heresies which he wished to suppress, 
and quickly made peace with the Bohe- 
mians, granting to them some trifling 
concessions of doctrine, not. inconsistent 
with the fundamental principles upon 
which the authority of the established 
church was founded. The age was not 
ripe for a general reformation of the 
church ; but the controversies about the 
opinions and doctrines of Wickliffe 
weakened the papal power, and accus- 
tomed even the common people to 
think and investigate. Those opinions 
were, from the first, agreeable to the 
common people, who envied the clergy 
lor their wealth and immunities, hated 
them for their vices and dissolute man- 
ners, and readily embraced the opinions 



of Wickliffe, that the church was not 
supreme over the civil power, that the 
clergy should be answerable to this pow- 
er for their crimes, and should possess no 
estates. It was the popularity of these 
opinions that gave such a keen edge to 
the resentment and persecution of the 
clergy. JThey rioted in excessive wealth, 
were exempt from the payment of tax- 
es, except when the King, regardless of 
their privileges, made arbitrary exac- 
tions ; th y were not answerable to the 
civil authority for their crimes, and 
murder, rape, incest and perjury, open- 
ly and daily committed, went unpun- 

Whilst the common people were thus 
acquiring a moral force in society, their 
physical force was increased by the 
emancipation of the villains or slaves. 
At the commencement of the twelfth 
century, the greater part of society 
were slaves; and lived entirely at the 
will of their masters. Every one that 
was not noble was a slave. The King 
and the chief vassals of the crown were 
the only persons who enjoyed personal 
liberty. The inferior vassals or gentry, 
enjoyed this liberty in appearance only, 
being subject to a long train of subor- 
dination and exactions from their supe- 
rior Lords, and deriving from the, 
but a slender protection against arbitra- 
ry and oppressive acts. The great body 
of society consisted of the gentry, the 
peasants and the inhabitants of the ci- 
ties : the peasants were employed eith- 
er as domestics about the house or per- 
son of the Lord, in which case they 
were called villains in gross or were 
employed upon his farm, and called 
predial villains or villains regardant. 
They were considered to be the absolute 

property of the Lord ; the villains re- 
gardant were sold like his catde; the 
villains in gross were annexed to hia 
land, and sold along with it. The in- 
habitants of the cities were generally 
tradesmen, held in contempt by the 
feudal Lords, and enjoyed safety from 
their insignificance. The gentry occu- 
pied a middle ground between the 
greater barons and the inhabitants of 
the cities, enjoying neither personal lib- 
erty nor safety. The villains in gross 
were the first that recovered their per- 
sonal liberty. The incessant wars in 
which the feudal Lords were engaged, 
often placed them in situations where 
danger triumphed over their pride, and 
obliged them to put arms into the hands 
of their domestics, and raise them to 
the rank of freemen ; for none but free- 
man could compose the retinue of a 
military chieftain. The inhabitants of 
the cities were the next who recovered 
their personal liberty. The resources of 
the feudal Lords became impaired, their 
military ardor declined, and their wars 
became less frequent. As soon as soci- 
ety enjoyed peace, the useful arts begaa 
to be cultivated. These arts, if not de- 
spised by the gentry and chief vassal* 
of the crown, were considered as be- 
neath their dignity and notice, and left 
to the inhabitants of the cities, who ap- 
plied themselves to handicraft trades 
and to commerce. The importance of 
this class of society was quickly per- 
ceived by the princes of Europe, who 
to encourage their occupations and to 
give them protection against the tyran- 
ny of the barons, began to erect com- 
munities and corporations, endowed 
with privileges and a separate munici- 
pal government. Charters were grant- 


NORTH-CAROLINA university magazine. 

ed to companies of tradesmen and mer- 
chants, and also to the cities and trad- 
ing towns, containing an enumeration 
of the privileges and immunities granted. 
These charters were generally respected 
by the prince; and by affording protec- 
tion ;igainst the barons, they greatly en- 
couraged industry and enterprise. These 
charters produced another effect highly 
beneficial ; they placed the inhabitants 
of the cities and to ns under the im- 
mediate protection of the prince, and 
by protecting them against the barons 
gave to them an independence of char- 
acter unknown to their ancestors. 

The great barons having no occupa- 
tion but war, became indolent, as wars 
became less frequent ; the feudal tenure 
relaxed, and the gentry or inferior vas- 
sals were relieved from many exactions 
to which a rigid tenure had subjected 
them, and began to enjoy personal free- 
dom and independence: but the indo- 
lence of the great barons soon introduc- 
ed luxury into their mode of living; 
the arts of tillage and agriculture being 
in their infancy. The produce of their 
farms was not sufficient to meet the 
expenses of their household ; arid to 
gratify their wants, they made arbitrary 
exactions from their inferior vassals. As 
their wants multiplied, these exactions 
increased, until they became more op- 
pressive than the regular feudal exac- 
tions. The laws were too weak to pro- 
tect the gentry against these acts of op- 
pression, and they sought protection 
under the authority of the prince; who 
now finding himself supported by the 
gentry, and inhabitants of the cities and 
boroughs, assumed the authority un- 
known to the feudal governments, but 
one indispensibly nee ssary to enable 

him to curb the rapacity and licentious 
spirit of the great barons. " It requir- 
ed," says Hume, ''the authority almost 
absolute of the sovereigns, to pull down 
those disorderly and licentious tyrants, 
who were equally averse from peace 
and from freedom, and to establish that 
regular execution of the laws, which in 
a following age, enabled the people to 
erect a regular and equitable plan of 
liberty." In this way tlie power of the 
prince became absolute, and it is curious 
to remark, that the same causes which 
made him absolute, gave personal free- 
dom to the gentry and the common 

The predial villains or villains regard- 
ant, were the last that recovered their 
pergonal freedom. Their con' ition was 
very degraded ; they were employed in 
the cultivation of their masters' lands, 
were annexed to these lands and trans- 
ferred with them from one proprietor 
to another. Their sons could not enter 
;nto holy orders without the consent of 
their masters ; they could not prosecute 
their masters in a court of justice, nor 
hold property except at their will. They 
could not leave their masters without 
permission, and if they ran away or were 
purloined, might be claimed and recov- 
ered by action, like beasts or other chat- 
tels. They held small portions of land 
for the purpose of maintaining them- 
selves and families; but it was at the 
mere will of their masters, who might 
dispossess them, whei ever they pleased. 
They held these portions of land upon 
services which were not only base and 
mean, such as to carry out manure, 
hedge and ditch their master's farms, 
but which were uncertain both as to 
their time and quantity. The first iin- 



provement m de in the condition of 
these villains, was the fixing with cer- 
tainty the rents which they were to 
pay, whether those rents consisted in 
corn and cattle and other produce of 
the farm, or in servile offices to he per- 
formed about their master's family or 
upon his lands. As agriculture im- 
proved and money increased, it \va< 
found to be the interest both of 
the Lords and villains, to make a 
commutation of rents for services, and 
money rents for those in kind. Further 
improvements in husbandry at length 
introduced the practice of granting 
leases to the villains, and this entirely 
broke the bonds of servitude and abol- 
ished the distinction between freemen 
and villains. In this way, villainage 
went gradually into disuse, and personal 
freedom became general in Europe. 

Among the various circumstances 
which conspired to accelerate the pro- 
gress of knowledge and the civilization 
of society, none had a more extensive 
and powerful influence, than this exten- 
sion of personal freedom and the rise of 
the lower orders in the different coun- 
tries of Europe. These events produced 
by the introduction of the arts, the en- 
largement of commerce, and the reduc- 
tion of the feudal aristocracy, were ac- 
companied by a gradual diffusion of 
wealth, which gave to men an ease and 
independence essentially necessary to 
inspire them with a desire of knowledge, 
and to afford leisure Ibi its acquisition. 
The lower orders soon acquired political 
importance; they wielded the physical 
force of society and formed the mass 
upon which the reformers worked. For 
their ins ruction, the scriptures were 
translated and numerous works were 

written in their own vernacular tongues. 
This soon became the universal method 
of addressing the multitude, greatly in- 
creased the number of readers and 
thinkers, and produced an entire revo- 
lution in the republic of letters. For 
uifii this time, learning was taught 
only in the dead languages, and render- 
ed inaccessible to all who did not un- 
derstand the Latin and Greek. None 
were considered wise but the learned, 
and prejudice had confounded know- 
ledge with erudition. As soon as the 
vernacular tongue was adopted as a me- 
dium of instruction, the way to know- 
ledge was laid open to ail, — and to be 
wise, it was no longer necessary to be 

Few events contributed more to the 
diffusion of knowledge and the general 
improvements of the age, than the stu- 
dy of the Roman law, which was intro- 
duced into the Universities of Europe 
about the middle of the twelfth century. 
The clergy every where engaged in it, 
introduced and enforced its principles 
in the spiritual courts, and prevailed on 
the nobility and gentry to consider an 
acquaintance with this new science as a 
necessary part of education. No study 
was better adapted to improve their 
taste, enlarge their views, invigorate 
their reasoning powers, and give solidi- 
ty to their judgment. As a system of 
jurisprudence, it was the noblest monu- 
ment of human wisdom ; and being in- 
timately connected with pu'-e ethics and 
liberal politics, contributed to illustrate 
those sciences from the moment of its 
introduction. As the feudal system re- 
laxed, the principles of the Roman law 
were incorporated int -the political con- 
stitutions and municipal codes of the 



different States of Europe. Their hap- 
py influence was soon felt in ameliorat- 
ing and systematizing the administra- 
tion of justice; and in diffusing correct 
ideas of civil rights and a knowledge, 
though very imperfect, of the science of 
government. The laws began to be 
more strictly executed and to afford 
greater security ; and the whole fab ic 
of society to evidence the progress of 
order and civilization. 

But notwithstanding the favor and 
admiration which the civil law received, 
the science of ethics made little progress 
until the time of the reformation. The 
ethics of Aristotle had been adopted in 
the Universities. As a system of prac- 
tical morals, they were useless and un- 
intelligible, having no relation to the 
duties of active life; they were suited 
for contemplative life only, and on that 
account were more admired and extol 
led by its professors, who lived apart 
from the world and knew nothing of its 
concerns. The ethics of the civil law 
were founded upon the social relations 
of man, and had for their object the 
illustration of his rights and his duties ; 
but its professors were generally monks, 
who knew as little of the practical con- 
cerns of life as the professors of Aristo- 
tle's ethics, and from their education and 
habits were inclined to the opinion that 
ethics was a mere contemplative science. 
Indeed the character of professors in 
that age, led to this opinion as to all 
the sciences; and it was not until the 
reformation that men began to turn 
their attention from abstruce specula- 
tions to the business of life. Instruc- 
tion was then no longer confined to an 
University or a cloister : men acquaint- 
ed with the affairs ot life instructed the 

multitude in the doctrines of the refor- 
mation and in the morality of the New 
Testament. Casuist. cal subtilties were 
combatted by appeals to the moral feel- 
ings and moral judgments of men. But 
the schoolmen and monks had so inter- 
woven the principles of ethics with the 
speculative doctrines of Theology, that 
many years elapsed before any attempt 
was made to disentangle them ; and so 
great has been the difficulty that it has 
not been overcome to this day. It is 
remarkable that notwithstanding the 
great improvements that have been 
made within the last century in meta- 
physical and physical science, and the 
liberal turn of philosophical enquiry, the 
science of ethics remains in a crude 
state. The question, " what is the foun- 
dation of moral obligation ?" is not more 
satisfactorily answered now than it was 
three centuries ago; an<$ until the prin- 
ciples of ethics shall be disentangled 
from the speculative doctrines of theolo- 
gy; until ethics shall be considered 
purely as a practical science, founded in 
the cons.itution and condition of man, 
and having for its sole object the de- 
velopment and illustration of his social 
rights and duties, society will have to 
regret that the most sublime of all the 
sciences remains imperfect*. 

* The principal improvements in ethical 
science for the last two hundred years, have 
been made by the courts of justice, whose de- 
cisions have been illustrated by comprehensive 
views of moral principles. And it may be said 
with confidence, that the chancellors and a few 
of the common law judges of England, having 
Lord Mansfield at their head, the chancellors 
of France, the judges of the supreme court of 
the United States, chancellor Kent of New 
York, Judge Cooper, and a few others, have 
contributed more to the development and illus- 


Political science remained nearly sta- 
tionary during the fourteenth, fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries. The changes 
which the progress of knowledge and 
the introduction of the arts produced in 
society, necessarily drew after them cor- 
responding changes in the political con- 
stitution of the several States. ' The 
most important of these changes was 
the rise of the lower orders, the break- 
ing down of the feudal aristocracy and 
the making of the prince absolute. Up- 
on these changes arose the present civi- 
lized monarchies of Europe, which, as 
systems of government administered by 
regular maxims and fixed principles, are 
not more unlike the oriental despotisms 
than the ancient republics. The same 
genera! causes, which made the prince 
absolute, imposed restraints upon his 
authority. As the gentry and inferior 
orders accorded to him the exercise of 
absolute power, for the purpose of giv- 
ing them protection against the oppres- 
sions of the barons, it soon became a po 
litical maxim, that power was to be exer- 
cised by the prince for the protection of 

tration of the principles of ethics, and their pro- 
per application to the business and affairs of 
life, than all the other learned men of the 
world.- Their principles, at all times conform- 
able with good sense and the interests of socie- 
ty, are gradually weakening the force of prece- 
dent and adding new beauties to our system of 
jurisprudence. It is not the business of courts 
of justice to form these principles into a gene- 
ral system ; they can only perfect and systema- 
tise particular branches of ethics, such as those 
which relate fo contracts : it is the business of 
philosophers to form a general system; philo- 
sophers, who guided by a knowledge of the hu- 
man mind,its faculties, sentiments and passions, 
shall trace with accuracy the moral phenomena 
of human life to their first principles in the 
•constitution ancf condition of man. 

his subjects ; and as this protection was 
in most cases directly afforded by the 
laws, each monarchy became, in a great 
degree, a government of laws, and not 
of men. A great pari of tbese laws 
consisted of ancient usages, or of cus- 
toms which had grown up in the cities 
and borough towns, in consequence of 
their charters. These customs soon ac- 
quired the force of laws, and were ob- 
served and respected as such, by the 
prince, as well as by th-e courts of jus- 
tice. They were diligently collected and 
embodied by the lawyers, and assum- 
ed the force of regular c<>des. The ab- 
solute power of the prince was further 
restrained by the diffusion of knowl- 
edge by means of the press, which by 
enlightening the people and invigorat- 
ing their spirit, raised a bulwark against 
the oppressions of their rulers, and 
taught princes to regard the prosperity 
of their subjects as the true object of 
their ambition, and their affection as the 
firm basis of their authority. Ilence, 
notwithstanding occasional instances of 
tyranny and oppression in each of the 
civilized monarchies of Europe, the au- 
thority of the laws has steadily advanc- 
ed, the arbitrary discretion of the prince 
has been restrained, property has be- 
come secure, industry and the arts have 
flourished; and as public opinion has 
made the glory of the prince to consist 
in the happiness and prosperity of his 
subjects, each of these monarchies has 
adopted regular maxims of administra- 
tion, tending to the good order of soci- 
ety and to objects of national ana per- 
manent utility. History, it is true, fur- 
nishes many melancholy exceptions to 
these general. truths; but their correct- 
ness will not be denied by any one ac- 



quainted with the progress of the politi- 
cal constitutions of modern Europe. 

Attempts were made in the fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries to establish cer- 
tain doctrines, incompatible with civil 
liberty, and the first principles of political 
philosophy, and subversive of the great 
interests of society ; doctrines, which in 
our day, and against all the lights of the 
nineteenth century, the holy alliance 
have attempted, with some detestable 
modifications and additions, to fasten 
upon Europe, by artifice and physical 
force. The most obnoxious of those 
doctrines were, that hypocrisy was a po- 
litical virtue, that sovereigns ought not to 
commit crimes by halves, that they have 
no other object in governing, but their 
own advantage, and to keep their peo- 
ple in bondage, they must keep them 
in ignorance. These doctrines were first 
avowed by Machiavel, in his treatise 
called " The Prince" and afterwards 
maintained, but sometimes under differ- 
ent forms, by all the advocates of abso- 
lute power. Machiavers Prince became 
a manual for tyrants : its principles were 
studied and the administration of States 
regulated by them. They governed 
the court of France during the regency 
of Catherine de Medici and the reign 
of her son Charles IX.; and Voltaire 
tells us, they were supposed to have led 
that execrable tyrant to the massacre of 
the Protestants on the evening of St. 

In tracing the history of civil rights 
since the revival of letters, it is curious 
»o remark, how much sooner the rights 
of property were secured and efficiently 
protected by the laws than 'he righis 
of personal liberty. For many years 
after the rights of property were looked 

upon as sacred, and an invasion of 
them as one of the most dangerous acts 
of power. The persons of men were ar- 
rested and imprisoned at the arbitrary 
discretion of the Prince, the tower of 
London and the bastile of Paris, were 
filled with prisoners of this description. 
In England perse nal liberty did not re- 
ceive effectual protection from the laws, 
until the twenty-ninth year of the reign 
of Charles IL, when the writ of habeas 
corpus was granted to the subject ; and 
in France, not until the revolution. 

The learning of the fourteenth and 
fifteenth centuries was confined almost 
entirely to the Latin and Greek lan- 
guages: and this admiration for the 
wisdom of antiquity was of peculiar use 
to literature and science in subsequent 
ages. It produced an emendation of 
the text of ancient authors and establish- 
ed the lexicography of their language: 
and it produced translations from the 
Greek into the Latin, of many valuable 
works, on philosophy, mathematics and 
physics ; and an explanation of the dif- 
ficulties of the authors they translated. 

The sciences chiefly taught during 
the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, 
were arithmetic, geometry, astromony 
and music : they formed what was call- 
ed the quadrivian of the schools. Cos- 
mography and drawing were occasion- 
ally taught, particularly to students who 
intended to engage in a seafaring life, 
and wished to be instructed in the art 
of navigation. An idea of the state of 
this art at that time, can be formed only 
from a veiw of the state of the sciences 
on which it depends. 




The Editor, though unauthorized to name the author of the following lines, ventures to an- 
nounce their having been written by Professor Everett,* of America, and conceives that they 

rHuo^nrlif irt ihnt rrpn tl^mnn's iv»ftnpnfnhlp nnmp 

are no discredit to that gentleman's respectable name. 


Who stormed and spoiled the city of Rome, 
and was afterwards buried in the channel of 
the river Busentius, the water of which had 
been diverted from its course, that the body 
might be interred. — (Campbell's London New 
Monthly Magazine, 1823. Vol 5, p. 64. 

When I am dead no pageant train 
Shall waste Iheir sorrows at my bier ; 

Nor worthless pomp of homage vain 
Stain it with hypocritic tear; 

For I will die as I did live, 

Nor take the boon I cannot give. 

Ye shall not raise a marble bust 

Upon the spot where I repose ; 
Ye shall not fawn before my dust, 

In hollow circumstance of wees ; 
Nor sculptured clay, with lying bieath, 
Insult the clay that moulds beneath. 

Ye shall not pilo, with servile toil, 
Your monuments upon my breast, 

Not yet within the common soil 
Lay down ihe wreck of power to rest; 

Where man can boast that he has trod 

On him that was "the scourge of God." 

But ye the mountain stream shall turn, 

And lay its secret channel bare, 
And hollow, ior your sovereign's urn, 

A resting-place for ever there : 
Then bid its everlasting springs 
Flow back upon the king of kings ; 
And never be the secret said, 
Until the deep give up his dead. 

* The present distinguished Senator from 
Massachusetts, then professor of Greek, and 
subsequently president of Harvard University. 

My gold and silver ye shall fling 

Back to the clods that gave them birth ;- 

The captured crowns ofmany a king, 
The ransom of a conquered earth ; 

For, e'en though dead, will I control 

The trophies of the capitol. 

But when, beneath the mountain tide, 
Ye've laid your monarch down to rot, 

Ye shall not rear upon its side 
Pillar or mound to mark the spot; 

For long enough the world has shook 

Beneath the terrors of my look ; 

And, now that I have run my race, 

The astonished realms shall rest a space. 

My course was like a river deep, 
And from the northern hills I burst, 

Across the world, in wrath to sweep, 
And where I went the spot was cursed, 

Nor blade of grass again was seen 

Where Alaric and his hosts had been. 

See how their haughty barriers fail 
Beneath the terror of the Goth, 

Their iron-breasted legions quail 
Before my ruthless sabaoth, 

And low the queen of empires kneels, 

And grovels at my chariot-wheels. 

Not for myself did I ascend 
In judgment my triumphal car; 

'Twas God alone on high did send 
The avenging Scythian to the war, 

To shake abroad, with iron hand, 

The appointed scourge of his command. 

With iron hand that scourge I reared 
O'er guilty king and guilty realm; 

Destruction was the ship I steered, 
And vengeance sat upon the helm, 

When, launched in fury on the flood, 

I ploughed my way through seas of blood, 




And, in the stream their hearts had spilt, 
Washed out the long arrears of guilt. 

Across the everlasting Alp 
I poured the torrent of my powers, 

And feeble Caesars shrieked for help, 
In vain, within their seven-hilled towers 

I quenched in blood the brightest gem 

That glittered in their diadem, 

And struck a darker, deeper die 

In the purple of their majesty, 

And bade my northern banners shine 

Upon the conquered Palatine. 

My course is run, my errand done ; 

I go to Him from whom I came ; 
But never yet shall set the sun 

Of glory that adorns my name ; 
And Roman hearts shall long be sick, 
When men shall think of Alaric. 

My course is run, my errand done; 

But darker ministers of fate, 
Impatient, round the eternal throne, 

And in the caves of vengeance, wait; 
And soon mankind shall blench away 
Before the name of Attila. 

The following eminently beautiful produc- 
tions relates to the late King of England : 

From the London Traveller. 


I saw him last on his Terrace proud, 
Walking in health and gladness, 

Begirt with his Court, and in all the crowd 
Not a single look of sadness. 

Bright was the sun and the leaves were green 
Blythely the birds were singing, 

The cymbals replied to the tambourine, 
And the bells were merrilv ringing. 

I have stood by the crowd beside his bier, 
When not a word was spoken, 

But every eye was dim with a tear, 
And the silence by sobs was broken. 

I have heard the earth on his coffin pour, 
To the muffle drum's deep rolling, 

While the minute gun with its solemn roar, 
Drowned the death-bell's tolling. 

The time since he walk'd in his glory thus, 
To the grave till I saw him carried, 

Was an age of the mightiest change to us, 
But to him a night unvaried. 

A daughter beloved — a Queen — a Son — 
And a Son's sole child have perished : 

And sad was each heart, save the only one, 
By which they were fondest cherish'd. 

For his eyes were seal'd and his mind was dark, 

And he sat in his age's lateness, 
Like a vision thron'd — as a solemn mark 
Of the frailty of human greatness. 

His silver beard, o'er a bosom spread, 

Unvex'd by life's commotion, 
Like a yearly lengthening snow-drift, shed 

On the calm of a frozen ocean. 

Still o'er him oblivion's waters lay, 

Though the stream of time kept flowing ; 

When they spoke of our king, 'twas but to say. 
The old man's strength was going. 

At intervals thus the waves disgorge, 

By weakness rent asunder, 
Apiece of the wreck of the Royal George, 

For the people's pity and wonder. 

He is gone at lenglb — he is laid in dust — 
Death's hand his slumbers breaking ; 

For the coffin'd sleep of the good and just, 
Is a sure and blissful waking. 

His people's heart is his funeral urn, 
And should sculptur'd stone be deni'd him. 

There will his name be found, when in turn 
We lay our heads beside him. 

Integer vitce., scelerisqve purvs, dtc 

Hor. Ode 22.— B. I. 
That man no guard or weapon needs, 

Whose heart the blood of Jesus knows, 
But safe may pass where duty leads, 

Through burning sands or mountain snows. 

Releas'd from guilt he feels no fear, 
Redemption is his shield and tow'r, 

He sees his Savior always near, 
To help in every tryiDg hour. 

Though I am weak and Satan strong, 

And often to assault me tries ; 
When Jesus is my shield and song, 

Abash'd the wolf before me flies. 

His love possessing, I am blest, 

Secure whatever change may come; 

Whether I go to east or west, 
With him I still shall be at home. 



If plac'd beneath the northern pole, 
Though winter reign with rigor there, 

His gracious beams would cheer my soul, 
And make a spring throughout the year. 

Or if the desert's sun-burnt soil, 
My lonely dwelling ere should prove ; 

His presence would support my toil, 
Whose smile is life, Hiose voice is love. 


[concluded from last number.] 

But the Slate is more culpable than 
either, if the matter has been presented 
to the Legislature and it has refused to 
grant an annual appropriation for the 
specific purpose o f building up its most 
promising Atbeneum. 

The books composing the University 
library are mostiy text books, a few 
scientific works and a great many pub- 
lic documents. The collection of mathe- 
matical works is not to be surpassed in 
value by any in the United States. The 
theological department is also admira- 
bly supplied. The last collection which 
has been added will always do honor to 
Gov. Swain, and the volum< s of law 
books and congressional documents will 
ever bespeak him a man careful and in- 
defatigable in his own department. — 
Though having but few volumes to 
weigh, yet in the scale of true value 
this will more than balance both the 
society libraries. Most of its books are 
antiquated and we are sure they think 
themselves the only surviving speci- 
mens from the labors of their great de- 
parted authors. 

But we are glad to say that a new 

supply is at length expected, and we 
hope that not another year shall pass 
without depositing upon those shelves 
rich contributions from the talents it 
has produced. 

The library building is quite an orna- 
ment to the College grounds, but by no 
means ostentatious or unsuitably ele- 
gant for this retired seat of learning. — 
tt measures 130 feet long by 35 wide, 
and it is provided with shelves for 12,- 
000 volumes. Our Ball Managers have 
insisted on furnishing the room with 
two imposing chandeliers. These add- 
ed to its height give to it an appear- 
ance at once beautiful and impressive. 
The basement has been converted into 
a reading room, which is much relished 
by those whopride themselves on their 
reading powers and acquaintance with 
the world's every day affairs. 

The Society libraries present a some- 
what different appeerance. The rooms 
are smaller, the books are newer and 
evidently seltcted with an eye to the 
finest copies. Paintings and portraits 
of the prided sons of each society hang 
on the walls. There is nothing else to 



arrest the long attention, except in the 
Dialectic library, wheie a museum com- 
pletes the most prominent features. We 
are sorry not to be able to commend 
every feature in these libraries ; but there 
seems to be in tliem a multi licity of 
editions and an uncalled for elegance of 
many worts. But do not understand 
us as wishing the libraries filled with 
indifferently bound volumes, paperback- 
ed, badly put up and worse printed. 
No. We would uot have the books 
belie the age of the libraries, and in" a 
year or two assume that grave, anti- 
quarian look which betokens ancient 
date, scarcity of money, Germany and 
block printing. The Soc'ety libraries 
are composed mostly of periodical liter- 
ature, novels, and some of the best late 
Histories. The historical department, 
the most important of all is inferior in 
completeness to both of the first men- 
tioned. As to the sciences, they are 
almost strangers to our shelves. It is 
but recently that our own best political 
authors have been introducad there. To 
mention the works which are essential 
to any good library, but which are 
sought for in vain within our halls, 
would be both tedious and discourag- 
ing — but it is desirable to supply them 
with the Histories of our own States, 
the scientific and political works of our 
most talented authors, and to collect 
the Histories of our American and Eu- 
ropean neighbors. Indeed we would do 
well to secure a copy of every historical 
.document in the world, before we pur. 
chase a "seventy five dollar" copy of 
Shakespeare simply to sic in princely 
style upon our shelves and show its 
pretty binding. Libraries are not for 
ornament and show. Their only beauty 

consists in their utility, and they are to 
be admired in proportion to the infor- 
mation they contain. Nor are they to 
be valued by the dollars and cents ex- 
pended in their collection, but by the 
importance of the knowledge which mav 
be obtained from them. One copy of 
the lost works of Livy, would confer 
more true value upon our library than 
could one thousand extra copies of 
Shakespeare, bound in gold by reposing 
in maj.stic placidity upon its shelves 
for one thousand years. 

True, we have as yet to satisfy the 
literary tastes of few except boys ; but if 
we do not soon have men diving to the 
deepest bottom of our classical and his- 
torical lore, it will be our own fault. 
We must have a gymnasium, if we 
want ath'etic wrestlers. Sure then giant 
minds are not to be expected until op- 
portunities are given for the trial of their 

Next to extensive libraries we want 
good catalogues. No man can read the 
hundredth part of the books a good li- 
brary contains ; and yet he must have 
the full benefit of all that is contained by 
that department to which he would de- 
vote his time and talents; else the 
greatest utility of a large library is lost. 
How is the student to find out the au- 
thors he would patronize? How is the 
young chemist to find among the ten 
thousand fathers in other sciences his 
own ancestors ? A good arrangement 
of the books with good catalogues is his 
only availing aid. The necessity is so 
plain that it would be tiresome to dwell 
on it. Without a catalogue a library is 
an immense mass of keystones, every 
one of which perhaps must be tried be- 
fore the proper one is found. A laby- 


65 * 

rinth of unuumbered paths which weary 
Out a life time before the right way can 
be found. And here, if you will indulge 
the figure, a catalogue becomes the 
thread of ariadne, by which asaguide,the 
student may find his way through every 
cavern of recondite lore untile he comes 
to the open door of truth. The con- 
struction of a catalogue which shall be 
convenient and accurate is a matter of 
the greatest difficulty in large libraries. 
The societies have hitherto used writ- 
ten catalogues ; but if their libraries 
should increase annually, they will be 
obliged to have recourse to printed 
ones. Then will come the great diffi- 
culty of inaccuracy. New books con- 
tinually coming in will require the cata- 
logue to undergo frequent revisions. — 
This has been a sourse of much trouble 
to the Smithsonian and Congressional 
libraries. Nor are the libraries in Eu- 
rope in less trouble about it. 

The University library has no catalo- 
gue. Where is a scape-goat for this 
omission ? Who can use the library 
with any success without a catalogue ? 
Or was it only intended for the use of 
the librarian ? We think it already large 
enough for all the purposes of a libra- 
ry without an index of some kind. 'Tis 
extravagance to pile up masses of books 
without knowing what they are. So 
many stones would answer as much 
purpose, for no person could make use 
of either. 

Written catalogues will answer our 
purposes for some years yet, but there 
is a necessity pressing closely upon our 
society libraries. It is the want of more 
room. In the Dialectic library there is 
but a part of one alcove unoccupied. — 
The Philanthropic library must also 
Vol. Ill— 26. 

soon be filled, if it continues to pur- 
chase books. Our books are being 
much injured by lying upon one anoth- 
er. Within the coming year we hope 
to see e>ery shelf in our libraries laden 
with useful knowledge. What shall 
we do then ? With every alcove over- 
flowing, every table heaped, and more 
books in our hands, what can the socie- 
ties do ? We cannot get brick and 
mortar, and rear a suitable building; 
we are not a corporate body that we 
might hire it done, and we have not 
nor ever can we have at one time, the 
ready money to get a workmen of abili- 
ty to undertake it for us. Shall we 
then put a stop to our long continued 
and steady increase of books ? Can we 
be content with the present nayow 
limits of our library? Surely he must 
have a niggardly avarice and a con- 
temptible ambition who can with the 
money in the hands of his society and 
the advantages of an extensive library 
in full view, say, let us purchase no 
more books, for our library is large 
enough and we will never read what we 
have. Thank God, our minds are not 
so narrow as our libraries. But if the 
State, with the means in her coffers, is 
willing to look on our extreme necessi- 
ties without moving a nerve, and to hear 
in silence our just complaints — whatcan 
we do ? Rather what shall we say of 
her, and how can we be as proud of 
her as we wish to be ? North Carolina 
is able to make large investments in 
Railroads and Banks. She has 100,000 
dollars in the " State Bank ;" dol- 
lars in the " Wilmington and Weldon 
Railroad f 2,000,000 dollars in the great 
" Central Railroad," and she is ready : to 
take large stock in a Beaufort Railroad 



as soon as it shall be commenced. — 
Buch works could and soon would be 
undertaken by private companies, and 
in that case be earliei finished and more 
successfully prosecuted. Now these are 
excellent investments on the part of the 
State, and would be highly piaise-wor- 
thy if not made at the expense of the 
University's pressing wants. But she 
is not even supplying the College with 
what funds are needed. What then 
are we to expect for the Societies ? Pri- 
vate individuals cannot build up Col- 
leges and libraries in North Carolina. 
We have no prospect of a North Car- 
olina Jacob Astor to bequeath us 400,- 
000 dollars to lay the foundation of a 
library which shall have within itself 
the power of living and increasing. If 
Rip Van Winkle wants a University 
ranking with those of his sisters, and 
libraries which shall command the at- 
tention of good talents, he must wake 
up, listen no longer to the bewitching 
tinkle of his pocket change, but turn 
the antiquated pocket " wrong side out," 
consoling himself with the reflection 
that, bread cast upon the waters will 
appear again after many days. The 
wants of the institution must first be 
satisfied, even should it withdraw every 
cent of State stock from the " State 
Bank," and leave not a stiver for a share 
in the great "Central Rail Road." The 
University at Chapel Hill has a prior 
elaim to either. Next to the University, 
itsattendant library is to be supplied 
with an annual appropriation. It is al- 
ready the best library in the State, and 
it ought to be made the great atheneum 
of North Carolina. About 400 dollars; 
is yearjyj expended for the library in 
Raleigh, but that is a mere trifle in com- 

parison with the State investment foi 
improvements only secondary in then 
just claims. The University and its li- 
brary are the first-born children of th<; 
State, and as such demand the first sup- 
ply to their wants. 

The third place at least is due to the 
appeal in behalf of the Society libraries. 
We can be bold in our demands for 
our alma mater, but for aid in those ef- 
forts which we have voluntarily under- 
taken, we can only plead our laudable 
motives and the benefits which will re- 
ward our benefactors for the encourage- 
ment we ask. 

It seems to us that at this day when 
no College is without its societies, and. 
when they are favored by every com- 
munity, no one can doubt that they 
are both useful and necessary. But if 
this were not enough, we could ad- 
vert with confiding pride to many a 
great man in the state who attributes 
impart at least, his success in a glorious 
career, to his connection with the Dia- 
lectic or Philanthropic Society. But 
suffice it to say that our aims are good, 
and the societies have ever been the 
means of installing and cultivating in 
the students a love of pure literature. 
Using all our industry with a sincere 
desire of accomplishing this purpose, 
we have collected more than ten thou- 
sand five hundred volumes. Our li- 
brary rooms are now too small and 
our Halls are too small. We ask the 
Trustees to build larger ones for u«. 
Shall we be heard ! 

La Mar, 



Messrs. Editors : As a matter of 
course, every one has spent a very peas- 
ant vacation, including a "merry Christ- 
mas " and " happy new year." Each of 
the many students of the University, 
have during the holidays shaken the 
hand of relation or friend ; received the 
warm embrace of kind mother or affec- 
tionate sisters ; listened to the wise ad- 
vice of father or friend ; shared in the 
joys of beloved brothers ; or perhaps, 
like myself, " a stranger in a strange 
land," have formed new friends, and 
" grappled them to our souls with hooks 
of steel," which will serve as connecting 
links to the good old State, when the 
purposes for which we visited North 
Carolina are completed and we have 
returned to our distant homes. 

It has often interested as well as 
amused me, when my friends at the be- 
ginning of the session 

" hath into bondage 

Brought my top diligent ear " 

by relating the different manner in which 
they have spent their vacation and have 
" with as greedy ear devoured up the 
discourse " of my companions as did 
Desdemona that of her loved Moor re- 
citing his "hair-breadth 'scapes i' the 
imminent deadly breach." 

My western friend will tell me of 
scenery grander far than any Switzer- 
land can boast of. He will have his 
adventures among the mountain crags ; 

of dangers met and overcome, and situ- 
ations in which he was placed, compar- 
ed to which, the vulture guarded posi- 
tion of Arthur Philipson, over the abyss 
of Mount Pilate was as firm as the rock 
of Gibralter. 

Then a friend from one of the larger 
towns of the State has interesting nar- 
ratives of balls, parties and the flirta- 
tions attendant thereon. One has ,# 
brilliant account of a brilliant flirtation, 
and another, more serious, by way of 
confidence, tells of a genuine courtship; 
of many and lavish protestations of love# 
(which with a collegian is binding until 
he meets another interesting or suscep- 
tible lady,) or claims my attention by 
informing me of the changes in the lovt 
market; how one young friend re'-'Vlaid 
on the table you know," and another 
taken off, or perhaps how one Has* been 
kicked under the table and an "outsider** 
taken his place. (Here I should like t* 
make a quotation suitable, but I knoifl 

Then again an eastern friend wiH 
tell — but read and I will relate an inci- 
dent or two which happened during m» 
last vacation spent " On the Banks of 
the Tar." 

I will not be so palpably guilty of 
tautology as to say that I spent a pleas- 
ant six weeks. Nor would I be able ill 
any reasonable space to tell the many 
pleasant adventures and enjoyments, but 
will select two incidents which 1 wit- 

08 * 


aessed and mentally jotted down at the 
time, to illustrate quite different points. 
The first to point out what a baneful 
influence the opinions and writings of 
Judge Edmonds have upon the people ; 
and the last, to show, what every south- 
ern resident and traveler kLows, that 
Mrs. Stowe wrote a WW-liber. 

On or about the 20th December, my 
friend, with whom I was spending the 
vacation, proposed that, for the day, we 
should suspend our usual sport, viz: 
hunting (my friend, who is leaning 
over, my shoulder, wishes me to say that 
it was hunting game not wives — and 
let me add only by way of a double 
parenthesis, that he is a very modest 
young man,) and ride over to where a 
" spirit," according to the neighborhood 
gossip, was to astonish the natives, in 
the way of holding converse with a lit- 
tle negro girl, belonging to the estate of 
the person whose ghost was about to 
"revisit the glimpses of theswra" to 


• Why his canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, 
Ha^ve burst their cerements." 

Not wishing to be contrary I consent- 
ed and off we started, takiug care to fill 
Our " tickler,' 11 with some old " Apple 
Jack," rightly supposing that all the 
spirits they would have, would be made 
for the occasion. 

We arrived an hour or so before the 
moment appointed for the "curtain to 
rise," which we occupied in looking at 
the. promiscuous assembly of men, wo- 
men and children, mostly negroes, and 
listening to the various conversations 
concerning the approaching " perform- 
ance." Here a county dignitary, full 
of lip-wisdom, was explaining the causes 

why this " spirit " was " doom'd for a 
certain term to walk the earth." Here 
two or three old ladies, whose features 
we were compelled " to spy down a leg- 
horn lane," and whose dresses were 
equally as unfashionable, were discus- 
sing the destiny of the world and ora- 
cularly devining what such manifesta- 
tions, as they were about to witness, 
foreboded. And here and there were 
collected squads of negroes, in very bad 
spirits, surmising " what the sperit 
would say." 

As the hour drew near, we collected 
into a room in which was seated the 
" medium." The crowd by this time 
were on the qui vive for the mysterious 
knocking*; and grave voice of the "spir- 
it." The conjectures as to the exact 
direction of approach and other doubts 
were freely discussed, until the clock 
struck twelve, the appointed hour, when 
three distinct knocks, in what direc- 
tion no one could tell, were heard. A 
silence as mysterious and profound as 
that caused by the sudden appearance 
of the Black Priest of St. Paul's in the 
top room of Meinherr John Mengs, fol- 
lowed these spirituql manifestations. — 
The "medium," who sat with her back 
to the crowd, informed us that the ghost 
of her departed master had appeared to 
her and wished to have some conversa- 
tion with her, if they would remain si- 
lent for a few moments. But this last 
request was useless, for each " sat like 
his grandsire cut in alabaster." 

Then commenced a series of questions 
by the " spirit," which seemed to be 
below, and answers by the girl, con- 
cerning the old man's worldly friends 
and possessions, which would be unin- 
teresting to the reader. For some fif- 


teen minutes lasted these questions and 
answers, the crowd, especially the wo- 
men, during the time becoming " small 
by degrees and beautifully less," per- 
haps it might have been, as they said, 
because their curiosity was gratified, 
but I thought it was from fear. My 
friend and myself, the only representa- 
tives of the " highest literary institution 
in the State," were rather expected to 
solve the mystery. We soon formed 
our plan, which my friend promised to 
execute, to see if the girl was not a ven- 
triloquist, and by this means, playing 
upon the credulity of the crowd. The 
" medium" was sitting near the foot o^ 
a bed, and could only be approached by 
getting under it, which would serve as 
a screen. Under the bed my friend 
crawls, (rather an undignified position 
for a sen or) and drew near the girl. — 
Just as the " spirit" was about to ask a 
question, he placed his hand upon her 
breast, (here is the place for Mrs. Par- 
tington to blush) and the ventriloquist 
was unable to stop asking the question 
in time to escape being caught. Per- 
fectly satisfied, my friend- withdrew. — 
The " spirit," at once became enraged 
at this atrocity and threatened direful 
calamity upon the perpetrator and wit- 
nesses, which very much terrified the as- 
sembly, and they, like the guests at 
Maebeth's feast, " stood not upon 
the order of their going, but went at 

In a few minutes every person was 
on their way home in a great hurry, 
and wild confusion, except my friend 
and myself. We explained the whole 
affair and only waited to see the girl 
decently whipped, concluding that the 
" spirit" would not shortly revisit those 

scenes. It was a well planned scheme 
to accomplish an object, but was' thus 
foiled. :i ; 

If the reader has got patiently 
through the first incident and is willing.. 
to follow me through another, I will 
give an account of a marriage during, 
the Christmas holidays, among the " co- 
lored population." 

On Christmas day, the negroes had 
collected in from their different homes 
during the past year, preparatory to a 
grand gala week, preceeding " hiring 
day." Night and day their feet kept 
time with the music of the fiddle and 
banjo, and truly " all went merry as*a 
marriage bell." It appears that during 
the week before, Bob had asked Nan- 
cy, (the names are changed, not because 
I am afraid the parties may read, this 
sketch and become offended, but merely 
to imitate the example of writers of 
" true tales,") to become his " better — 
or worse." The wedding was to take 
place during the latter part of the 
week, and of course expectation was 
on tip-toe concerning the approaching 
ceremonies, especially as it was hinted 
that it was to be rather a grand affair. 
As the day approached, on which was to 
be consummated the earthly happiness 
of these two persons, quite, a stir was 
made aradng the poultry, and the cooks 
were busily engaged. 

The only difference between the hap- 
py pair was respecting the manner by 
which the knot was to be tied. Do not 
misunderstand me. I do not mean that 
one wished to be married by the cere- 
mony of a particular church, ar d the 
other by another. But Bob, who was 
rather an "Old Fogy," and had all the 
superstition natural to his race, did not 



wish to be married " by the books," as 
it was a certain forerunner of bad luck, 
but wished to imitate the example o^ 
his parents, by dispensing with all cere- 
mony and be declared " man and wife' 1 
limply by "jumping the broom stick.'' 
Nancy who had spent some time in a 
eity:and had there seen marriage cere- 
monies performed with great pomp, 
was entirely too aristocratic for that 
trivial manner of entering into so seri- 
ous a compact. She insisted on being 
married by the regular ceremonies of the 
•ihurch. Bob, making necessity a vir- 
tue, gave way, for she would have her 
will, nor could she be blamed, imitat- 
ing her betters. 

This being settled, another difficulty 
•prung up, caused by the man giving 
way, which is generally the case. There 
Was no minister near, and as for a ma- 
gistrate, they had anaturalfear for the 
name. The only alternative left was 
that my friend or myself should per- 
form the ceremony, which, at the ear- 
liest solicitations of the parties, we 
promised to do. After a long debate 
as to who should act as parson, it was 
decided that I should take the part, on 
the ground that I could look the char- 
acter better. (Was the decision a com- 

The day, on which the wedding was 
to take place, was rather a quiet one, 
feeing the only day, since the beginning 
of the week, that there was a cessation 
©f dancing. The wedding was the en- 
tire theme of conversation. I had, by 
way of preparation, been reading re- 
peatedly the ceremony, (barring the 
prayers,) and by the time the marriage 
was to take place, concluded that 1 
Could go through very well. 

When the appointed hour drew near 
I donned my best suit of black, with , 
white cravat and hair loached up, pre- 
senting, on the whole, an appearance 
that a young theologian might have en- 
vied, and started, with my friend, to the 
house of joy. As we entered rather a 
broad grin sat upon the countenances 
of many of the guests, for they had al- 
ready collected, awaiting the approach 
of the bride and groom, but it was sud- 
denly chilled by the sacerdotal dignity 
of my appearance. We waited but a 
few moments for the happy couple, 
who soon approached followed by a 
number of young attendants. The girl, 
although she had not, after the manner 
of modern brides, consulted for the 
greater part of the day, her " Psyche," 
looked extremely well. Her dress, pure 
white, including gloves, formed a re- 
markable contrast with the ebon hue of 
her complexion. As a matter of course, 
she had seen too much of society not 
to blush, therefore, I suppose I must 
say, she blushed, concluding that she 
was one of those flowers, so beautifully 
described by Gray, that was " born to 
blush unseen." The bridegroom was 
indeed a fine looking specimen of his 
race, something, I imagined, similar in 
complexion to fair Portia's suitor — 
"The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd, 
sun." He, too, was appropriately dress- 
ed and presented an appearance in ac- 
cordance with his happy feelings. The 
waiters were arranged in the usual man- 
ner, the " candle holders" being near 
the minister. My friend was standing 
near enough to the blushing pair to 
make known to them, by means of a 
sharp stick, which he held in his hand, 
when they should answer. 



Every thing being in readiness, I a- 
rose with becoming dignity and went 
through the ceremony with an accent 
and modulation, " suiting the action to 
the words and the words to the action," 
that would have done credit (how vain) 
to the Bishop himself. My visible fac- 
ulties were only once excited during the 
marriage. When Bob was asked wheth- 
er he would take Nancy for his wedded 
wife, &c, he answered, reminded by a 
vigorous poke from my friend, very 
emphatically, '' yes sir, Master." When 
they were pronounced " man and wife," 
I gave the direction " to salute the 
bride," a scene ensued utterly indiscrib- 
able, only the noise which arose was 
more like the distant roar of the dis- 
chaiged muskets of an undrilled com- 
pany of artillery, than any thing that 
I can now think of. It is needless to 
say that the salutation was not confin- 
ed to the bride and groom. 

When order was restored the danc- 
ing began, which my sicred office de- 
barred me from witnessing, but I was 

invited by the bride to take a peep at 
the supper, which was indeed a fine re- 
past. After this I left, having received 
the thanks of the happy couple and tho 
promise that the first boy should be 
named — after me. 

Before we retired for the night, one 
of the bride's maids presented, in the 
name of the bride, to my friend and 
myself, some very nice cake, accompa- 
nied with the hope that we would have 
pleasant dreams of our . We plac- 
ed the cake under our pillows, with 
some names, pretty ones too, but we 
thought a change would improve them, 
(excuse me for not saying who,) and 
we did have pleasant dreams. My 
friend insists that his shall not be told, 
but I dreamed (I forget whether I was 
asleep or not) of a marriage at which 
I played a more important part than 
parson, but it was only a dream, which 
will cause me ever to remember the 
marriage " On the Banks of the Tar." 



How sweet the mom when first it flin gs 
Its sunlit rays upon the flowers, 

And wakes the lark with dew-wet wings 
To chant his song in rossy bowers. 

The earliest breezes balmiest blow, 
And morning flowers have brightest hues, 

And tints that seem more bright to grow 
When bathed in silvery sparkling dews. 

How softly sweet departs the day 

Into the darker shades of even; — 
But sweeter still breaks morning's ray, 
Bright beaming in the eastern heaven. 

How sweet, when comes the "night of life," 
To close our eyes in death's calm sleep, 
To wake at morn where earthly strife, 

Shall cease and we no more shall weep. 
Greensboro' Jan. Sth, 1854. 




Non tibi parvum 
Ingenium, non incultum est turpiter hirtuni. 


No less true is this remark of very 
many young and indolent but ambitious 
writers of the present day, tlian was it 
of Celsus, whom the great Latin satirist, 
in a courteous manner, admonished and 
re-admonished of the evils of plagiarism. 
Every kind of composition is suffering 
greatly from its baneful influence. Men, 
whose heads are gray, as well as young 
soap locked poetasters and scribblers, are 
not unfrequently detected in their base 
plans of winning a high literary reputa- 
tion. This fact no well-read man will deny. 
Though it is enough to bring the blush 
to one's cheek, yet even here at the 
the shrine of learning, productions, 
which the genius and learning of anoth- 
er have fashioned and polished, are of- 
ten slightly altered and then used by 
those who, though they have by nature 
talents which, if properly exerted, would 
do credit to themselves and honor to 
the institution, are too indolent to rouse 
their energies and too improvident to 
see that they are not girding themselves 
with such an armor as will do them 
service in fighting the great battles of life. 
Lamentable fact — nevertheless undeni- 
ably true ! 

No infant ever learned to liep its 
mother's beautiful name, that did not 

exert properly the organs of speech — 
no child ever learned to walk erect, that 
did not exert properly the organs of 
speech' ; no child ever learned to walk 
erect, that did not at first crawl and 
toddle ; and no one ever learned to read 
his own or any other language, that did 
not first memorize the alphabet of that 
language. Thus it is, invariably, with 
one who is just beginning to write es- 
says. He must, in the first place, exert 
himself; he must, in the second place, 
expect small beginnings ; he must, in 
the third place, learn the first elements 
before he can hope to be a polished and 
finished writer. He may well be proud, 
if, at his first effort, he originate one 
single thought which is new to himself. 
Inasmuch as purely original thoughts 
seldom appear in the productions of 
practical writers, they are not reasona- 
bly to be looked for in those of begin- 
ners. All that is expected of the be- 
ginner is that he dress up in his own 
diction what few thoughts he has ac- 
quired. Afterwards, when he comes 
to have opinions of his own, his practice 
in writing will enable him to express 
them clearly, forcibly and elegantly. 

According to an old aud familiar ad- 
age, " practice makes perfect." Just as 



a sailor can see better and to a greater 
distance than one who has never prac- 
ticed spying out vessels and other ob- 
jects at sea, so can one, who is accus- 
tomed to write much and carefully, ex- 
press himself more perspicuously and 
more thoroughly on any subject than 
one who seldom pens a thought. He 
is very silly, indeed, and knows little of 
human nature, who expects at first to 
be as full of thoughts as an old and ex- 
perienced thinker, to reason as lucidly 
as Bacon, to write as naturally as Shake- 
speare, as concisely as Milton, or as lu- 
minously as Burke. Such an one would 
be, a rara avis, to be sure. The be- 
ginnings of every author, with probably 
no exception, have been small and diffi- 
cult. Observation, conversation, think- 
ing, reading and writing made them 
what they were. When a boy, doubt- 
less, the author of the Waverly novels 
and the Lady of the Lake thought him- 
self ungifced, thought his imagination 
not so fruitful, not so brilliant as he 
could desire ; and yet where has any 
one, either before or since his time, 
thrown such a witchery around the 
splendors of fiction. Irving's style is 
easy, graceful and captivating, yet it 
suffers in comparison with the matchless 
beauty of Ivanhoe. Bulwer's is super- 
latively beautiful, yet its lustre pal^s in 
the presence of the splendor of Kenil- 
worth, as much as that of the moon in 
the presence of the full-orbed sun. 
Still this is no leason why they should 
not have written. They have won for 
themselves a chaplet of imperishable 
fame and have at the same time bene- 
fitted the literature of the world. That 
one cannot do as well as another is no 
just nor sufficient reason for his neglect 
of the duties of life. 

Some may argue that it is worse than 
nonsense for men to weary their bodies 
and wear cut their minds in writing 
fiction, inasmuch as Sir Walter Scott is 
as yet unrivalled and is not likely to be 
hereafter eclipsed. That he is unrival- 
led — that he is uneclipsed, is true ; but 
it does not follow from this that it is 
impossible for him yet to be surpassed. 
The beauties of fiction are, doubtless, 
not half exhausted. Such a land as 
ours has not yet any where else been 
discovered. Our mountains are as lofty 
and as grand — our valleys as rich and 
as beautiful as those of the " land of the 
melting lyre and conquering spear;" our 
battle-fields will gain in comparison 
with those of Marathon, Leuctra, Platasa 
and Mantinea ; the legends, anecdotes, 
stories and real scenes of the dark days 
of "76 afford as good- foundations for 
spirited and splendid romances as those 
of Knighterrantry did ; our government 
is the model of the world ; our Constitu- 
tion is the admiration of all mankind ; 
and here there is "freedom of speech, 
or of the press " and a constitutional 
provision against the abridgment of 
either. Cannot such a land, such thrill- 
ing scenes and proud recollections and 
such a government, awaken the latent 
genius of some gifted man, who can out- 
strip, far outstrip one who lived and 
wrote in an Eastern Monarchy ? 

Nor is this the only kind of composi- 
tion which should be practiced, nor the 
only kind to which there are incentives. 
Rather it is the last kind. Many sub- 
jects of practical importance will occur 
to every one on which it will be easy 
and profitable for him to think and 
write. On all such subjects, he will 
continually find use for all the informa- 



t-ion of every description which he ha3 
acquired. He will often illustrate some 
point by some occurrence with which 
he is familiar and for the truth of which 
he could vouch, and, when a man thus 
illustrates his views on any subject, he 
will always be clear, correct and im- 
pressive. Every time he writes an es- 
say on an easy theme, he fs strengthen- 
ing his mind to grapple with more dif- 
ficult ones. By pursuing such a plan, 
he may, before he has reached the prime 
of life, be capable of investigating ably 
and creditably some of the deep and 
abstruse truths of philosophy, natural, 
moral and mental, which have as yet 
presented insurmountable barriers to 
other philosophers. Some may think 
that the field of philosophical research 
is completely explored. 'Tis a very 
great mistake. I imagine the Poet did 
not mean to say, when he sung 

"Nature and all her works lay hid in night 
God said, Let Newton be— and all was light," 

that all the sublime works of nature and 
the grand machinery of heaven were 
fully brought to light. Newton was 

only the great pioneer in the philoso- 
phical field. If that were not the Poet's 
meaning, the splendid discoveries of oth- 
er philosophers and mathematicians 
have given the lie to it. 

Nor are these the only fields in which 
the emulous young man may run a 
high career. The field of oratory pre- 
sents a bright and captivating prospect. 
Such laurels as were won by the silver- 
tongued Prentiss in the Southwest, the 
wizard-lipped Clay in the Far West, and 
the majestic Webster in the North may 
await some of the young men of the 
present day, if they exert their own 
talents and scorn the idea of wearing 
false honors. Such imperishable honors 
are not the offspring of plagiarism. — 
False colors will dazzle for a while, but \ 
as soon as they are discovered and re-.^ 
cognized as belonging justly to another, 
then the shame is burning, is intolerable. 
If one is an ordinary, but original wri- 
ter or speaker, his reputation will be 
more enviable, than that of another who 
is brilliant, but shining in the borrowed 
splendor of the plagiarist. 



The remark that " man is a religious 
animal," has been so often made that it 
has become trite, but it is none the less 
true because of its triteness. Religion 
is here taken in its widest sense ; — 

meaning a belief in the • existence of 
some superior power and the depen- 
dence of the world upon such power. 
Such a sentiment or belief seems to 
have pervaded the minds of men in all 


. ages. In proof of this, we need only 
refer to the many religious systems 
which have made their appearance into 
the world. These systems have been 
nothing more than the embodiment of 
those principles within man which lead 
him to look up to some one superior to 
himself, upon whom he is dependent 
and in whom he " lives and moves and 
has his being.'' 

In the Grecian and Roman mytholo- 
gy, we see these religious instincts of 
man's nature beautifully exemplified. — 
Here we see the struggle of reason un- 
aided by Revelation to dissipate that 
moral gloom which overshadowed the 
destiny of man, and which made his 
pathway through life one of uncertain- 
ty and doubt. True, his reason was 
aided by the light of nature, but it on- 
ly gave forth feeble and flickering glim- 
mers, which, whilst they pointed to the 
end, discovered not the means by which 
such end was attained. Notwithstand- 
ing these difficulties, men greedily seized 
upon the materials which nature thus 
sparingly afforded them, and built for 
themselves a system beautiful in some 
of its parts, but in others highly distort- 
ed. They believed that the world was 
made and governed by some all-power- 
ful being; — that after death there was 
a place of punishment for the wicked, 
and an abode for the happy spirits who 
had done well in this life. Around 
these doctrines were thrown such em- 
bellishments of fancy as almost to hide 
them from view. But without entering 
into a farther investigation of these sys- 
tems of religion, let us see how they 
were made subservient to the formation 
of government and the carrying out of 
its objects. And that they were applied 

to such purposes may be seen by look- 
ing into the code of every nation of an- 
tiquity. In the formation of every code 
of laws, the wise legislator must have 
some res ect for the religious feelings 
and prejudices of the people ; else they 
will be of no avail, but will produce all 
that disorder which it was his intention 
to avoid. Solon, after having perform- 
ed the task imposed upon him, confes- 
sessed that he had not given his coun- 
trymen the government best suited to 
their happiness, but most tolerable to 
their prejudices. Had he not availed 
himself of the religious prejudices of the 
people, it is highly probable that his 
constitution would never have been 
adopted. He knew, that before it could 
be adopted, it would be necessary for it 
to be recommended and sanctioned by 
some one, who, like Epimenedes, claim- 
ed from men little less than the venera- 
tion due to a superior being. Lycurgus 
also, before he could give laws to Spar- 
ta, was obliged to strengthen his au- 
thority with the sanction of the Del- 
phic Oracle. In this way, by imposing 
upon the religious credulity of the peo- 
ple, were given to Athens and Sparta 
constitutions which rendered them hap- 
py and prosperous for a number of 
years. And, on the other hand, it is 
probable, even had these forms of gov- 
ernment been adopted without recourse 
to such means, that they would not 
have lasted for any length of time. — 
T^e feeling of veneration was more 
deeply implanted within the bosoms of 
the turbulent Athenians and heroic 
Spartans, than the love of order. 

It is because of this powerful sup- 
port which religion renders government, 
that some of the wisest heathen writers 



expressed themselves so strongly con- 
cerning the guilt of those who dared 
to ridicule the fabulous mythology of 
their times. They saw, that should the 
minds of men be divested of all ideas 
of future rewards and punishments, it 
would be impossible to preserve law 
and order among them. Cicero said 
that it was " on this account that the 
ancients invented those infernal punish- 
ments of the dead to keep the wicked 
under some awe in life, who, without 
them, would have no dread of death it- 
self." Hence the fables of Tantalus, of 
Prometheus bound upon a rock, and 
others of like kind whose object was to 
inspire the people with dread of incur- 
ring the wrath of the gods. Nor was it 
dread of future punishments alone that 
restrained them from committing deeds 
of violence ; for they were made to be- 
lieve that the gods were the invisible 
witnesses of their actions, and that even 
in this life, they visited men with pun- 
ishments on account of their crimes. — 
Hence, no doubt, arose the custom of 
sacrificing, whose object was to appease 
the gods, and to ward off those punish- 
ments which men felt they deserved. — 
Thus we see the powerful aids to social 
order which arise from the peculiar con- 
stitution of man, even in times of the 
greatest moral darkness. But when the 
light of Christianity comes in, reveals to 
man his true destiny, and inspires him 
with the highe;t motives of action, 
these aids are rendered greatly more 
powerful. The object of Christianity is 
to awaken wiihin us a sentiment of uni- 
versal benevolence, and to make us feel 
a relation to every part of the universe. 
And were it to have its true sway, un- 
trammeled by the vices and passions of 

men, there would be no need of go- 
vernment ; there would be no greivan- 
ces to redress, no crimes to punish ; but 
everything would go on smoothly and 
quietly to the accomplishment of its des- 
tiny. But man has passions and appe- 
tites, and it is in part to keep these 
within their proper bounds, that govern- 
ment hus been established. But what 
are the motives which religion presents 
to man to restrain these passions and 
appetites? It reveals to him that his 
greatest good consists, not in the mere 
gratification of his animal desires, but 
the subjection of these to some higher 
principles — that the end of man is hap- 
piness — and that this can be attained 
only by the satisfaction of his whole na- 
ture. And in so far as these motives 
prevail in making him live in obedience 
to this higher principle just so far do 
they overthrow the influence of his pas- 
sions over his actions. He carries with 
him a constant monitor, whose office it 
is to sit in judgment over his actions, 
to approve of what is right, and to re- 
prove what is wrong. 

Religion also appeals to the hopes 
and fears of man. It represents to him 
that there is a world beyond the grave, 
where all shall be rewarded or punished 
as they deserve. In this light it is a 
kind of authoiitative law enforced by 
the most awful sanctions of which the 
mind of man can conceive. And in 
this light alone does it possess any in- 
fluence over those who are incapable of 
abstract speculations concerning mora- 
lity and virtue. Were it not for the 
sanction of religion, it would be impos- 
sible for the civil magistrate to enforce 
his authority. He might denounce 
against the offender, the severest penal- 



ty of the law — even death itself; but 
these would have no influence upon 
him, were he confident that it was "all 
of death to die." But when religion 
opens to his view an eternity of mise- 
ry after this life, he shudders at the 
thought of violating that law whose pe- 
nalty is death. Could one be confident 
that he could escape justice, still would 
a sense of religion make him tremble in 
the commission of crime. Why is it 
that when the knife of the assassin 
pierces the heart of his victim, heshud 
ders and turns pale ? Because he 
knows that there is an invisible witness 
of his deeds, and that should he escape 
punishment in this life, he cannot in the 
life to come. 

Let us fo' - an instant, suppose a peo- 
ple in whom all sense of religion has 
been destroyed ; and who are ruled 
according to the dictates of reason 
alone. How long would it be before 
reason would be dethroned, and the 
passions have supreme sway ? We 
are certain that such would be the case 
from what we know of human nature. 
How often is it that a man, though in- 
fluenced by a sense of religion, and rea- 
son, is overcome by his passions and led 
on to his own destruction. 

Stewart says, M that those who have 
labored to loosen the bands of society 
have found it necessary to begin with 
perverting the natural sentiments of 
the mind with respect to a future retri- 
bution." Nor have they in all cases 
been unsuccessful. We have seen mem- 
orable instance in the history of nations 
in which the natural sentiments of the 
people have been so far perverted as to 
induce them to inscribe upon the tombs 
of the departed that, " Death is an eter- 

nal sleep." What was the condition of 
this nation at that time? Never since 
the creation of the world have been 
seen such scenes of violence, anarchy 
and confusion. The passions of men 
ruled supreme. Endeavoring to im- 
press themselves with the belief that 
there " was no God," they committed 
deeds at the contemplation of which 
the heart sickens and turns away with 
disgust. Had ttoey continued in this 
belief, they would have been blotted out 
from the list of nations ; and that too 
by their own hands. In looking at this 
example, one cannot resist the conclu- 
sion, that God punished this people not 
only for their enormous crimes ; but to 
show all how they were dependant upon 
liim, not only as individuals., but even 
as nations. 

If what has been said be true, what 
is our duty with regard to them, consid- 
ered merely as members of society ? — 
We should not only cultivate within us 
an habitual love and reverence towards 
the Supreme Being; but we should do 
all in our power to promote the same 
in others around us. Especially is this 
our duty, if we are so fortunate as to 
occupy high positions in society. The 
lower orders look up to their superiors, 
and if the former see the; latter despising 
and rejecting religion, they themselves 
will soon be actuated by the same feel- 
ings ; and we have already seen what 
will then be the consequence to society. 
The rjious man is always a good citizen. 
Impressed with this fact, let us, if we 
wish to promote the interest of our 
country, continually exercise that love 
toward God, which as rational beings 
we ought. W. D. L. 







Why murmur at life's little trials ! — 
They will soon pass and there will be 
nothing left of them, but a pleasant re- 
membrance that we have stood them 
as the oak stands the winter's storm, and, 
though a leaf may fall now and then un- 
til its branches are bare, still a spring will 
come and bring them back again fresh- 
er and greener than ever for having 
been gone so long. Why mourn be- 
cause some fountain of affection seems 
chilled aud frozen ! Wait a little while 
and a genial sun will shine upon it, and 
its waters will flow free and swift for 
having been bound up, yea, they wil) 
flow so swift that you will be nearly 
drowned beneath the bright sparkling 

Has Hope, the Siren, ever flitted past 
thee, waving her bright wings and stoop- 
ing so low that you could almost grasp 
a golden leather as she passed, and then 
rose swiftly up- — up — up into the blue 

immensity of space and left you, with 
naught but the dying echo of her part- 
ing song ! Sad and lonely, have you 
wept to lose so bright a thing ! Why 
should you weep ! For there is one hope 
that plumes not its wings nor flies away, 
but droops and as a guardian angel ever 
walks beside to cheer thee, and this is 
the hope of Heaven. And if thou wilt 
" Be just and fear not," but walk in the 
way of him who was " a man of sorrow « 
and acquainted with grief," thou shait 
tread the golden streets of that happy 
land, and have a crown of stars, a robe as 
pure and white as the snow-flake, and a 
harp whose golden strings shall wake the 
praises of the lamb forever and forever. 
Such is life, a road rough and uneven, 
with here and there a green spot on 
which the pilgrim lo another land may 
rest, and as he rests, may these little 
Wavelets of Memory lighten his load 
and smooth his path of life. 





It is said to be a popular fallacy — 
and if a fallacy, it is certainly very po- 
pular. That when the hues of youth 
have passed away from the face of that 
woman, who hath not met her other 
part in the passage of life's pilgrimage ? 
when the cheeks become furrowed and 
the lips pinched ; and when the nose 
begins to partake rather of the " An- 
tique Roman, than the Dane,"' — that 
then the mind of such an one is apt to 
become the receptacle of trifles, and a 
mole hill is to her imaginary vision 
forthwith a mountain. The pinning of 
a collar, or the crumpling of a cuff, be- 
comes a matter of momentous import 
and the crushing of a worm, or the 
caging of a bird, a subject of elaborate 
dissertation and interminable homily. — 
An inveterate loquaciousness, insatiable 
curiosity, eternal prying, affectation and 
primness, are said, — by the best and 
most reliable authority upon the Natu- 
ral History of the sex — to be infallible 
indices of the species. 

Whoever reads the work, whose title 
heads this article, will agree with me — 
that no better illustration of the species, 
as described, could be produced than 
Fredrika Bremer, of Sweden, spin- 
ster. Do not, reader, understand me as 
bluning Fredrika, for being an old 
maid, because I haye no doubt, from all 
accounts of her, and impressions formed 
from these accounts, that it was rather 

her misfortune than her fault. I do not 
censure her for being an abolitionist in 
this country, fori attribute that chari- 
tably, as becomes a Southerner, to her 
innate defect of understanding, and the 
company she met with on first coming 
to our shores : — per example Hale, Se- 
ward, Lucretia Mott, Douglass, Bryant 
and Lowel — besides the straight-laced 
Pharisees, who live in the Modern 
Athens, and lay claim to all the Philo- 
sophy, all the elegance, all the Greek, 
rhetoric, and intelligence among the mo- 
dern barbarians. But I am constrained 
to laugh, despite my inclination to be 
fretted at the conceited and ex cathedra 
tone, in which this fantastic, little au- 
thoress of namby jamby " Tales," who 
was petted and made much of through 
southern hospitality, scolds at the insti- 
tutions of the South, prophecies retribu- 
tion at the judgment day, and lets us 
know how easy and how nice it would 
be, if we would only set free all our 
slaves. About one half of each one of 
the handsomely bound volumes which 
lie upon my table, is dedicated lo the 
illumination of the poor southern mind 
on this important and interesting to- 

That the unfortunate little woman 
was on many occasions, most artfully 
quizzed by wags, masculine and femi- 
nine, black and white, every one who 
reads her account of the South will at 




once perceive. To listen to her, not 
one slaveholder in all the South, could 
uphold the institution, and all argumen- 
tation on the subject, is sunk at once 
into abject and stammering humility 
before the shrill anathemas of the tiny 

She sets out on her visit to the Homes 
of the Nexo World, with much faith 
and hope for our country ; but possesses 
no charity for us of the South. She has 
set her lips together ; she has pressed 
her foot down ; she has resolved " she 
will not say any good word of slavery ; 
she will not /" She has not. So far 
from it, if it were not so farcial, if it 
were not so ludicrous, — coming from 
the source it does — we should think 
Miss Bremer's tirade against us to be a 
fit subject for the consideration of " the 
society for the prevention oi cruelty to 

She will not believe any man or wo- 
man honest, who pretends to be con- 
sciously a slaveholder; and no one is 
either truthful or sensible, who disagrees 
with her in such an opinion. Listen to 
the manner in which the indomitable 
' controversialist puts to shame a South- 
ern antagonist : 

Southerner. — " Report says, Miss 
Bremer, that you belong to the aboli- 
tionist party ?" 

Miss Bremer. — "Yes, certainly I do ; 
but doubtless, so do we' both, you as 
well as I." 

Southerner is silent. 

Miss Bremer. — " I am certain that 
you as well as I, wish freedom and hap- 
piness to the human race." 

Southerner. — " Y-y-y-ye-e-e-e-s! but, 
but — " and in such a style as this does 
our doughty Swede unhorse all gentle- 
man advocates and apologists of slavery. 
To have been transfixed with a bodkin, 
to have been thus ridden down by a 
pigmy on a mouse ! How painful it 
must have been to the southern knight! 
Notwithstanding its affectation, its van- 
ities, its prolixities, its cant; notwith- 
standing a thousand passages, which 
have no business where they are; nor 
in fact any where; despite of much at- 
tempt at melo-dramatic pathos, at 
which even " My Uncle Toby " would 
smile, the book is sufficiently entertain- 
ing, and we would advise such as love 
to be entertained to purchase it. Over 
it the young ladies who dote on Tuppee 
may extacise at ease. Those who read 
it, however, should do so, having in 
mind the advice of the Spectator, that 
" authors have established it as a kind 
rule that a man ought to be dull some- 
times " and not forgetting the depreca- 
tory twitter of this little Swedish spar- 
row, in her dedication of this " new 
song" that she has "sung unto the 
Lord." When you read these letters, 
my friends, have patience, if possible, to 
the end. A Virginian. 





Man is by nature endowed with all 
the passions, faculties and principles ne- 
cessary to the preservation and enjoy- 
ment of life. Self esteem is one of those 
fundamental principles or passions of 
man, and like all those implanted by 
nature, involves the happiness of his 
life, or is perhaps needful for its main- 
tenance. The universality of the prin- 
ciple renders it evident that it is a char- 
acteristic attribute, without which, man 
Woujd sink from the rank of a superior 
to the level of the brute. The idea of 
superiority — superiority, not only when 
compared to the brute creation, but su- 
periority in comparison of man with 
man — i s an inherent sentiment in the 
human breast. There lives not the 
man, who in the inmost recess of his 
mind conscientiously believes himself 
the lowest, meanest and most degraded 
of mankind. No man could maintain 
such an opinion and support reason. It 
matters not how low and debased, how 
lost to every principle of virtue and 
honesty he may be in the eyes of other 
men, there is always some hidden, se- 
cret, unseen virtue, which he possesses, 
or fancies he does, which he being judge, 
turns the balance in his favor, raises him 
a degree from the bottom. 

This principle is exemplified in every 

stage of life, " from the cradle to the 

o-rave." When first struggling with 

the deep mysteries of the spelling book, 

Vol. Ill— 27. 

the little urchin finds himself "foot" 
and though he may maintain this posi- 
tion, he never will, to himself, acknowl- 
edge his inferiority, but will rather 
struggle on, hoping that some future 
fate may discover to astonished eyes the 
power he sees or hopes is his. And 
thus the passion grows with the youth 
and ripens in the man. The dullest 
boor that lives believes himself superior 
in some respects to the loftiest genius of 
the land. The murderer, condemned to 
lite-penance, scorns to be classed with 
the common thief, yet feels his pride 
gratifit d in being named with notables 
of his own stamp. Why, and how is 
it thus ? 

There is in man an intuitive admira- 
tion or reverence for the high and exalt- 
ed — some indefinable consciousness of a 
superior excellence, which claims, com- 
mands and receives his unmeasured ad- 
miration. Attendant upon, and insep- 
able from this admiration, is a desire or 
longing after it, and in this desire is im- 
planted the germ of self-esteem. This 
dim-dfined excellence — this ideal good- 
ness is made the standard by which his 
own goodness or greatness is tested ; as 
he approaches it, so is he content with 
himself, as he departs from it, so is he 
sinking in his own esteem. 

Although it is contended that this 
ideal does exist in every mind, yet it is 
contended that it exist in the same de- 



gree of perfection, or is of the same 
character, in every one. On the con- 
trary, as a natural result from the di- 
versities of judgment, taste, capacity and 
education, these ideal standards will dif- 
fer widely. Their progress and growth 
depend entirely upon the circumstances 
by which the individuals are surround- 
ed — cameleon like it takes the hues 
nearest — adapts itself to the light which 
surrounds its growth. But when once 
it has obtained its size, shape and col- 
our, no after efforts can entirely oblite- 
rate it from the mind. Thus the cir- 
cumstances of, perhaps, natural endow- 
ments, certainly, of education, have 
created in the minds of different men, 
the boon and genius for instance, wide- 
ly different standards of excellence, and 
thus is explained the fancied su periori- 
ty of the boon. With many this may 
be denied, perhaps condemned, yet it is 
so, and happily so. It seems to have 
been intended by a beneficent and all- 
wise Providence, that man being him- 
self an image, and by nature an imita- 
tive being, should ever have existent 
within some standard model or guide 
whereby to direct his aspirations and 
point his hopes, and providentially too, 
it is decreed that this guide, be ideal 
and imaginary — " a creature of the 
brain," for thus, while the stimulus or 
desire is given by nature, while the 
germjs innate — the sprouting, growth 
and cultivation is given to him, he is 
responsible for its perfection. Thus it 
is, always, at all times and with all 
men in whatever grade or circle they 
may move. Though some may not at 
.all times — others may never, acknowl- 
edge to themselves the existence of this 
ideal self. And manv who acknowl- 

edge it may affect to disregard, and 
may act seemingly contrary to it, yet 
upon a close inspection the main prin- 
ciples here briefly sketched will be found 
true, and these men one and all will be 
found not only to possess this guide — 
model, but at all times to shape their 
lives by it. Hence it is that we see 
men differing so widely in ability and 
talents in their own opinions, excelling 
each other in some particulars. 

Thus it seems that judgment and 
taste are the architects of this model, 
whereby man guides his actions ; it 
then becomes a matter of momentous 
importance to every individual that, 
these faculties, upon which so much de- 
pends, should receive a proper cultiva- 
tion. It becomes the urgent duty of 
those to whom is intrusted the educa- 
tion of youths, to inculcate into then- 
minds, while yet their judgments, tastes 
and inclinations are forming, noble and 
refined ideas of the beauty and value of 
virtue; to' instill into their sound ^and 
simple principles of , honor and justice, 
as the ground-work of their judgments, 
with invitations and allurements to par- 
ticipate and delight in all thai is good 
and great, just and noble in action. — 
With such precepts rightly taught, with 
such seeds early sown in the mind, and 
carefully cultivated, there will not fail to 
be erected a guide — model well worthy 
of imitation — a self-esteem, based upon 
some internal principles of truth and 
justice, giving to its possessor a native 
dignity which will enforce his claims to 
respect and support its own pretensions 
to superiority. 

Such self-esteem is praise-worthy, 
whereas its illegitimate and degenerate 
offspring — vanity embraces only a little, 


pun}? meagre sentiment, worthy only of 
our hearty contempt — vanity is always 
despicable, never possessing any nobili- 
ty of purpose to elevat# it into respec- 
table importance. It springs from a 
diseased and morbid desire of envy, not 
of praise — as has been somewhere said, 
it displays itself in silly spe ches, and 
a thousand little fooleries. Men who 

really deserve to be admired need never 
hawk their own virtues in people's ears. 
Those whose admiration is desirable, 
can see for themselves, and they are all 
the better pleased from finding out youv 
virtues. There is a kind of self-com- 
placency remarkable in the feelings of 
men, who believe that they have discov- , 
ered merit, which endears it to them. 


The history of France is an interest- 
ing one. It presents to our view the 
lives of some of the most remarkable 
personages on record. For instance : 
the illustrious Char emagne, who was 
wise in the counsel chamber, bold and 
intrepid in the field, and was one of 
the brightest characters of the Dark 
Ages. " He stands," says Hal lam, 
*' alone, like a beacon upon a waste, or 
a rock in the broad ocean." Napoleon, 
also towered far above his cotempora- 
ries, surpassing in many respects every 
conqueror the world has produced, and 
constituting by far the most powerful 
potentate that has appeared since the 
downfall of . Rome. By his deeds he 
achieved for himself a place in history 
that will never giow dim, and stamped 
his name in characters bold and prom- 
inent on the annals of the age. 

Some of the daughters of France too 
occupy interesting positions in her his- 

We pity Maria Antoinette for hey 
extreme suffering ; Josephine we ad- 
mire for superior sense, and love for an 
affectionate heart ; and we now propose 
a short sketch of the character of one 
who, unassisted by birth or education, 
performed exploits that will never be 
forgotten. This was Joan of Arc. She 
was born in Domremi, a village of Lor- 
raine, A. D., 1402, at a period when 
man was sunk in ignorance, and blind- 
ed by superstition. Time and distance 
have involved much of her history in 
obscurity, and imagination is left to 
speculate on causes that influenced her 
future career. Certainly there was some- 
thing that operated most powerfully 
upon&her mind, to raise it to such a 
pitch, of enthusiasm, as to induce her 
to belive herself to be the agent of 
Heaven in restoring her king. To de- 
termine what that something was is not 
my object. It is left for others of more 
leisure, ability and imagination. 



Joan sprang from humble but truly 
devout parents. In her infancy she was 
taught to reverence her God and love 
her country. But few years did she 
pass under her parental r<>of before she 
was removed to an inn, where she serv- 
ed as hostler — performing such drudge- 
ry as is here alotted to a negro man. 
Thus she lived in utter obscurity till she 
was nearly twenty-seven. 

At this time the English were besieg- 
ing Orleans. A pall of gloom overhung 
France, while clouds ominous of impend- 
ing destruction lowered in the horizon. 
King Charles had fled. Many of his 
subjects in despair had ceased to resist; 
and some had given up all hopes of a 
happy issue. The affairs of Charles 
seemed desperate. At this gloomy and 
important crisis, Joan appeared. 

She stood up before the nation and 
declared herself to be inspired from 
Heaven to restore her King, and deliver 
her oppressed country. The French, 
willing to catch at the least glimmer of 
hope, gave all credence to her words, 
and cheerfuhy submitted to her guid- 
ance. She clad herself in bright steel 
armor, mounted a snow-white charger, 
and placed herself at the head of the 
army, and immediately marched against 
the English. She rode in front bearing 
in her hand a small banner upon which 
the image of the Saviour was painted* 

Thus were the French inspired with 
new zeal and better hopes, for they be- 
lieved her to be sent from on high to 
their rescue. The English were dismay- 
ed, for they thought she came from the 
"nether pit" and that the evil one as- 
sisted her in fighting against them. 
Holy Jotn was invincible. Her enemies 
retreated, and dispersed before her. She 

having driven back the English, con- 
ducted Charles to Rheimes where he 
was crowned King. 

This is certainly one of the most mar- 
vellous transactions on the pages of au- 
thentic history. 'Tis passing strange 
to think that a girl raised as she was 
should overthrow the British power, 
and set at liberty her oppressed country 
from mere enthusiasm. 

Yes enthusiasm, or as some have 
deemed it, fanaticism, was the founda- 
tion of her success. It was this that 
caused her to thiow off the modesty of 
her sex, and don the warrior's armour. 
It was this that enabled her to govern 
a mad soldiery and conduct them to 

Having restored Chailes to the throne 
she declared her divine commission at 
an end, and would feign have retired to 
the vale of private life from which she 
sprang; but the King felt her impor- 
tance, and would not willingly give her 
up. Through his influence she contin- 
ued at the head of the army. — 
Wreaths of victory decked her brow for 
a few months longer; but in the midst 
of a sharp engagement, Fortune, a fick- 
le goddess, took to herself wings and 
desrted the brave maid. She, wounded 
and exhausted, fell captive to her most 
inveterate enemies. For months there- 
after the pure breezes of Heaven visit- 
ited her only through the iron grates of 
her prison windows. Barred out from 
all that on earth she held near and dear, 
she turned her thoughts within, and 
sought and found that tranquil happi- 
ness that arises from conscious purity 
of heart, and a sense of duty discharg- 
ed. This was all she could call her 
own, but this was of more importance 



to her than the gold of Oj hir. Her 
enemies granted her a trial, but the tri- 
al was only a mockery of justice. They 
hated Joan, and her virtue proved but a 
poor shield against their enmity. She 
was sentenced to be burned for nor eery. 
She was prepared for the worst, and 
heard her doom without a shudder. — 
The God that had strengthened her 
hands against the enemies of her coun- 
try, now, in this dark hour of adversity 
forsook her not, but enabled her to meet 
with composure, a fate calculated to 
make the stoutest heart quake and 

Amid the array of martial hosts, the 
clangor of trumpets, and waving of 
banners, Joan was conducted from the 
prison to the stake. With a firm and 
unfaultering step she walked forth, and 
submitted calmly to be bound like " a 
lamb dumb before its shearers." 

The English army looked on and re- 
joiced that one who had caused them 
so many defeats, was now so complete- 
ly in their power. 

The fagots blazed, and the flames 
whirled about her slender form ; but 
hark ! amid the roar of the flames her 
voice is heard cading most fervently on 
heaven to aid her in this last trying 
hour. Her voice grows weaker. — 
" Jesus," ''Jesus !" is heard at intervals. 
Now her lips move, but no words are 
heard ! Now the soul of martyred 
Joan, borne on the smoke of the fire 
that consumed her, has ascended to 
heaven ! 

Thus, at the market place of old 

Rouen, perished the gallant maid of Or- 
leans, on the 20th of May, 1431, in 
the 29ih year of her age. 

Some sought to brand her name 
with eternal infamy.. But this could 
scarce be expected otherwise. The 
greatest and best have been defamed, 
and Joan could not escape. No, she 
could not have escaped the black hand 
of Calumny had she been as "chaste 
as ice or as pure as snow." But this 
load of prejudice is fast lessening, and 
justice will yet be awarded to whom it 
is due. Joan is yet to have a bright 
and honorable page in the history of 
her country. Si.e is there to assume 
the place — not of a queen, nor yet of an 
empress — but a higher a nobler place. 
Let this simple inscription be there 
written, " Joan of Arc — Restorer of 
her King — Preserver of her Coun- 
try," and her Dame will be handed 
down, while those of queens will sink 
to oblivion. 

Let the skeptic go to her history, and 
there learn something of that "peace of 
mind and harmony within," which can 
cheer the gloomiest dungeon, and buoy 
up the soul under the most dire distres- 
ses. Let him learn from Joan to sub- 
due his own spirit, and humbly to trust 
in the " divinity that shapes our ends." 
He may no! be able to fight the battles 
of his country, and obtain for himself a 
a patriot's meed, but let him remember 
that he who conquors self, achieves the 
noblest triumph. 





Messrs. Editors : In looking over 
the conten's of the December number 
of your excellent Magazine, my atten 
tion was arrested by an article entitled 


World." Which, on examination, 1 
found to be a criticism on my " Poems 
and Speeches." The article is too good 
to be lost, too rare to be allowed to "blush 
unseen" among the "chips and shav- 
ings " of the Literary realm. The wri- 
ter, who for convenience, we will call 
u our critic," expresses himself, in the 
.commencement of bis article, " unwil- 
ling" to allow the " Brief Selection " to 
" waste its sweetness on the desert air," 
and with inimitable grace expressed the 
hope that "he would be borne with 
while he would endeavor to bring it be- 
fore your readers in as favorable a light 
as the circumstances of the case would 
allow. Now " our critic" must know, 
that I feel highly complimented, and 
very thankful that he has so kindly in 
terposed to save the " Brief Selection " 
from impending oblivion. As from " our 
critic's" language, I take it for granted 
that he " stands high " (if not in the 
public's) in \nsoivn estimation, and that 
whatever he deigns to notice must call 
forth the attention of "listening senates" 
and the admiration of the world. 

After a few glowing preliminaries, 
" our critic " falls on the preface to the 
"Brief Selection'''' like a thousand of 
"brick." And having made a wonder- 
ful complaint about "rashness," "pre- 
sumption," an " intelligent public," 'and 
a class of queer " philosophers," he gives 
us a sample of his intelligence and pecu- 
liar critical powers, which may be seen 
in the following part of a sentence, be- 
ing "our critic's "first hlow at the pre- 
face: "Willi the exception of one or two 
grammaticall errors." Now, although 
the reader may think the orthography 
of the above quotation a little doubtful, 
he should neither "tell it in Gath, nor 
publish it in the streets of Askelon," as 

it is " our critic's " peculiar mode of 
spelling, and is no doubt passable. But 
for his special benefit, I must say, that 
there is an excellent trertise on orthog- 
raphy by Webster to be had at the book 
stores, which he ought to procure, as it 
might be the means, if closely studied of 
teaching him how to spell the English 
language correctly. But to proceed 
with the sentence. "Our critic" thus 
concludes,-— " and some very bungling 
sentences, his ptefatory remarks are at 
least ^ass^We." Reader what think you? 
Isn't it rare, that a critic of the nine- 
teenth century, a professed disciple of 
Kiikham and Smith, and a citizen of 
the Literary world, should thus 

" Out strip the wind, 
And leave the world behind," 

in the art of spelling? Oh how rare! 
Were it possible, that old Walker and 
Webster could return to the literary 
world, and see how far "our critic " has 
left their production in the rear, 
vvould'nt they be glad in future 

" To blush unseen, 
And waste their sweetness on the desert air?" 

He next notices the first article in the 
"Selection',' entitled, "A Valedictory 
Address." Ttsis he passed over as the 
"empty wind which we regard not," 
having found no other fault with it than 
its being mixed with poetry, which he 
says, is " better than some " he has seen 
in his time. No doubt of that. Stare 
not, gentle reader, for he must from his 
title be an old, if not the oldest, inhabi- 
tant of the literary world, where accord- 
ing to Pope, 

" Those who cannot write, and those who can, 
All rhyme, and scribble and scrabble to a man." 

And as such no wonder he has "seen 
sights." But I must follow the train 
o\ circumstances. " Our critic" next, 
like a starving fish hawk, baffled in his 
efforts to find prey among the lone 
"mountains of despair," or fish in the 
"fount of knowledge," rises on heavy 



wing, and looks with eager eye into an 
address on " State Pride," wherein he 
sees portrayed the fertile fields, spread- 
ing plains, and lofty mountains, of the 
-"Old North State" together with her 

Eiders bounded on each side 
By meadows wide and green, 

Than which, the far fam'd vale of Tempe, 
Affords no fairer scene. 

Suddenly he poises himself for a mo- 
ment as if to take breath, and then 
darts with vindictive rage into the last 
verse of a Poem on North Carolina; 
which he asserts, in a positive manner, 
to be ." somewhat inferior to Judge Gas- 
ton's poem on the same subject." It 
may be ; / will not dispute it. Gaston 
has ever stood at the head of our State's 
Literature ; and / am willing he should 
still rest " alone in his glory." But 
alas for our critic! he has been " biting 
a tile," for if he thinks the verse only 
somevjhat inferior to Gaston's as he 
quoted it, he would no doubt consider 
it vastly superior; Had he seen the au- 
thor's correction of a few typographical 
errors in that verse, published in the 
'Argus," and " Dew Drop," only a short 
time after the "Selection " was printed. 

A poem, entitled '• Old Year Adieu," 

seems to have won "our critic" com 

pletelyover; for while he admires its 

parts, he still complains that it has 

" desperate neighbors " No wonder. — 

For when he, by its charms, is 

" Dragged from his den 
The wond'ring neighborhood with glad surprise, 
Behold his shagged breast, his giant size, 
His mouth that ■ flames no more, his languid 

He does not, however, remain long 
in this tranquil state; suddenly he ris- 
es like a hungry lion, and leaps from 
the shoulders of " Old Year," setting 
himself full on one of its neir/hbors, en- 
titled " An M. D., LL. D.," of whom I 
never expected to hear again, but so 
soon as "our critic " has passed over, I 
found it was simply " A mishap to an 
M. D., LL. D." The Doctor is, howe- 
ver, described as a man cf " wonderful 
propensities." And has no doubt from 
his long practice acquired conside rable 
medical skill ; and if he has received 
any flesh wounds or bruises from " our 

critic's " assault, I would simply say to 
him, "Physician heal thyself."* As to 
what became of the Doctor's " lame 
blind horse," I have not been informed. 
It is however thought that " our critic'' 
mounted him in the heat of excitement 
and sloped to parts unknown. It is 
true that he has spread false reports on 
the Doctor, saying he (the Dr.) usually 
left his horse "hitched to the legal limb, 
while he pillfered the pockets of his 
patients." Now, through fear of the 
Doctor's bringing these reports to a 
" legal " issue, " our critic " is thought £ 
to have sloped. But I am very little 
inclined to credit the supposition, as I 
think it far more probable that he would 
have eloped with the Doctor's " own be- 
loved Sue," as he speaks of her as a girl 
of great "firmness" and "good sense." 
Now before I dismiss this peculiar 
genius, I must give the reader a sam 
pie of his poetical propensities. Speak- 
ing of a poem, entitled " A nvshap to 
an M.D. L.L.D.," which has a few Latiu 
sentences intermixed, he says, 

" Ergo he wrote 'alf 
An' 'alf." 

On the above rhyme I have no com- 
ment to offer ; further than to hope " our 
critic's" (y) ears may be long in the 
land, that he may enjoy the fruits of 
liis peculiar genius: 

And may be sire a goodly seed, 
Whose (y) ears may too be long 
And may often with him join 
To bray a deafning song. 

In conclusion, I must say to our crit- 
ic, that if he wishes me to notice him 
in future he must give his name in full, 
as- 1 have set it down as a maxim, that 
I never would contend with any crea- 
ture that cannot be twisted out of his 
den. I hope, should he see these few 
remarks, that he will take, them in good 
part, as they were written in the best 
imaginable spirit. D. McNEILL. 

* In explanation of the above, I will here 
state, (as " our critic " seems ignorant of the 
fact,) that it is a custom among writers, when 
they introduce "characters," to vest them with 
traits peculiar to the circumstances. Hence, 
those blunders, found by "our cr.tic" iu the 
M. D.'s address to Sue, were intentionally 
made, so as to make the Doctor appear as lu- 
dicrous as possible. 




We come neither to remonstrate with 
you, readers, nor to speak much concern- 
ing ourselves. Perhaps, you think what 
has been said on former occasions savors 
of egotism } so for fear of being censured 
for a similar offence, we shall labor to be 
brief. We cannot, however, refrain from 
expressing our heartfelt delight at the 
kind and general welcome with which our 
first number of the Third volume was re- 
ceived. Having met with such approba- 
tion, we commence our labors for the pre- 
sent issue w'th cheering prospects and 
brighter hopes ; and despite the malevo- 
lent predictions of a speedy downfall, we 
are able to go to press with less difficul- 
ty than with any previous number. If we 
cannot cater for the tastes of liierary conno- 
isseurs, we hope to make our pages accep- 
table to our friends. Could the Magazine 
always prove to be like the gentle carrier- 
bird that catches friendly messages in its 
flight, and thus give pleasure for the mo- 
ment, if it find not a place in memory, 
our wishes would be gratified. An emi- 
nent British essayist has prettily remark- 
ed : — " Magazines resemble those little 
angels, who, according to the pretty Ka- 
binieal tradition, are generated every 
morning by the brook which rolls over the 
flowers of Paradise, — whose life is a song, 
— who warble till sunset, and then sink 
back without regret into nothingness." — 
Is it enough for our Magazine thus to 
please and be forgotten.? Mow whether 
''Mug." shall taste the precious elixir of 
immortality or not, we shall not dare to 
predict; yet we hope her course will be 
like that of a smooth current gliding 

harmlessly through future years with her 
surface unruffled by any of those agita- 
tions with which similar periodicals have 
been visited. 

The Magazine will still continue to be 
a means through which literary produc- 
tions of merit, long pen 1 up in our college 
archive ; , can flow out to the public. And 
as each of our little articles are constitu- 
ent drops in the great sea oi literature, 
we hope they may be kindly received and 
prove to be pure and refreshii g, like crys- 
tal drops from a summer's cloud. 

The contents of the present issue give 
further proof of the disposition among 
the eminent of the State to aid us in add- 
ing the grace and elegance of composition 
to our pages. Thus we are enabled to 
give from time to time new and attractive 
features to the Magazine ; and we are led 
to believe, that its increasing reputation 
and extensive circulation will secure for it 
a hearty reception from all those who pro- 
perly appreciate that high order of mental 
culture, so essential to the advancement 
of youth. 

We feel confident that this issue will 
compare favorably with the number for 
Feb. Our first number was not sent forth 
as a ' specimen copy.' We dislike such im- 
positions. On the other hand, the matter 
for it was collected under rather inauspi- 
cious circumstances; for the majority of 
our corps was absent, revelling with a 
proud jollity about their beloved home- 

Our Leader. — In pursuance of an an. 
nouncement heretofore made, we present 
to our readers as the leading; article of this 



number, a contribution from one whose 
name, were we at liberty to give it, would 
impart an addition to the great interest 
which we are sure wiil be inspired by its 
intrinsic merits. With reference to its 
author, we may be permitted to intimate 
at present that few persons among us 
have attained such eminent distinction in 
walks so various and widely dissimilar, and 
that there are few living or dead to whom 
the State is more deeply indebted for im- 
portant services in stations of high offi- 
cial trust. 

Wavelet's of Mf.mory. — Under this ti- 
tle, the reader will find in the present num. 
berof l he Magazine the introduction to a se- 
ries of extracts which will hereafter ap- 
pear in our columns. The author is a 
young man of sprightly and agreeable 
manners, fine talents, good taste and rich 

His subjects, as you will perceive from 
the caption, are of the past. Dreams of 
the unveiled future are for the most part 
exceedingly beautiful ; but the thoughts 
and stories of the past are nearly always 
interesting. Nor is the past, like a mad 
Woman, entirely <; bereft of beauty." — 
Campbell, the sweet bard of Scotia has 
sung : — 

'"Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." 

Though not entirely, we believe it is in a 
great measure true, — we believe the sun- 
shine that gilds the varied scenes of our 
youthful days, like that which the King 
of Day, as he is sinking behind the hills 
of the west, flings on the fleecy clouds 
that skirt the sky, grows brighter and 
brighter as we draw nearer and nearer to 
the gates of eternity. 

Our young friend will no doubt, in his 
future productions, cause the wavelets of 
the past to flow over and break upon our 
minds not unfrequently, not unprofitably, 
and not unpleasantly. 

The School for the Application < f 
Science to the Arts. — This department 
of the University was organized at the 
beginning of the present term, and is now 
in successful operation, under the general 
supervision of the Faculty, ;md the im- 
mediate direction of the able and energet- 
ic Professors, by whom the principal part 
of the instruction will be given. 

The scheme adopted by the Trustees at 
their last annual meeting contemplates, we 
understand, no change in the established 
curriculum, until after the close of the first 
term of the Senior year, and then only at 
the option of the student. At the begin- 
ning of the second term, every Senior, 
who desires to do so, is permitted to en- 
ter the Scientific Department and gradu- 
ate at the same time with those who pur- 
sue the regular Academic course, and at 
the end of one year thereafter, upon an ap- 
proved examination on the studies of the 
Engineering and Chemical departments, 
wiil receive the degree of Master of Arts. 

Those Seniors who do not desire to re- 
main in the institution an additional year 
may avail themselves of the advantages 
of the school to a limited extent, by dis- 
pensing with three recitations in the de- 
partment of Languages, and four in Inter- 
national and Constitutional Law, — one or 
both, and devoting as many at their elec- 
tion to the practical application of Science 
to the Arts In other words, there are 
seven recitations which the Seniors may 
devote at their election, to the acquisition 
of the Languages, International and Con- 
stitutional Law, or to practical Science. 

The present Senior Class consists of 
sixty members. Of these, eighteen have 
determined to make no change in the 
regular Academic course, and five have 
entered the department of Civil Engineer- 
ing, with a view to the five years course. 
Thirty-seven receive instruction in the De- 
partment of Law, and eighteen in the 
French and Latin languages. Eighteen 



take three, and nineteen take seven recita- 
tions in Agricultural Chemistry. 

In relation to those who take an exclu- 
sively scientific course, the regulation will 
be to permit applicants, who are properly 
prepared in mathematics and chemisty, to 
enter the scientific department, they pre- 
fer and at the end of two and a half or 
three years, according to their proficiency 
graduate as B ichelors of Science. 

The Professors in the new School are 
Charles Phillips and Benjamin S. Hedrick, 
the former of Civil Engineering, the lat- 
ter of Analytical and Agricultural Chem- 

The annexed letter* of Mr. Phillips to 
the President was read to the Trustees at 
their lust annual meeting, and throws so 
much light on the nature and objects of 
this department that we gladly avail our- 
selves of permission to publish it. 


January 2d, 1854. ) 
My Dear Sir: To comply with your request 
for suggestions concerning the objects and 
methods to be pursued in the School for the ap- 
plication of Science to the Arts, is a task of no 
ordinary magnitude, importance and difficulty. 
The Science of the day is at once the means 
and measure of the civilization of the day, and 
is the collective term by which we designate all 
that we know of the laws and operations of na- 
ture — their various relations and analogies — 
and the theories proposed for their causations 
and dependencies. The Arts are the processes 
by which the discoveries and theories of Science 
are made available to supply the infinitely di- 
versified wants and tastes of mankind. The 
lahors of the men of Science who have sounded 
the depths of the ocean, pierced the rock-ribbed 
mountains, followed the winds in their circuit, 
and observed the times of the heavenly bodies, 
find their true end and development in the ad- 
vancement of the Arts which foster commerce, 
subdue the earth, combine machines, lay down 
railroads, erect telegraphs, build cities, and thus 
bind man to his fellow man in his wants, luxu- 
ries and destiny. It is thus that Science, show- 
ing us the riches of our inheritance as lords of 
this lower creation, and the arts enabling us to 
appropriate these riches, make more and more 
striking and permanent the distinction between 

our civilized and uncivilized conditions. In view 
of these great truths, a diffidence in approach- 
ing the task of deciding what is Science, and of 
enumerating its actual and possible applications 
to the Arts, may well be excused as at once na- 
tural and becoming. 

If the objects and methods of the new School 
at the University, are to be determined by the 
title in its most comprehensive extent, I should 
at once despair of suggesting a plan for its or- 
ganization, nor would it be possible to conceive 
one which time and experience could not sup- 
plement or modify. But while the comprehen- 
siveness of the title of the School may indicate 
the liberality of the views with which it was 
founded, and may assure the public that in time 
all its objects shall be attained, yet the titles 
and number of the only two departments as yet 
established will show what the Trustees con- 
sider best adapted to the present necessities of 
our community, and at the same time confess 
the incompleteness of our organization. The 
judgment evinced in not attempting too much 
at first, and in proposing a plan neither too 
dazzling to be realized, nor too complicated to 
be understood, can hardly be over- estimated. 
The department of chemistry — with the almost 
inseparable sciences of mineralogy and geolo- 
gy — revealing to us the most secret treasures 
of the earth, the inexhaustible source of all our 
material comforts, is not more important than 
that of Civil Engineering, which by suggesting 
and directing internal improvements, renders 
these treasures accessible and available. The 
School thus begins with but two Sciences, which 
nevertheless are fundamental to most of the 
Arts, and on a plan so expansive in its nature 
and connections, that it may in time embrace all 
the Sciences and nearly all their applications. 

Although I can hardly be expected to exhib- 
it, at present, all the details of the organization 
of our Scientific School, 3 r et in arranging even 
temporarily the departments of civil engineer- 
ing and analytical chemistry, we are met by 
difficulties, resembling in kind at least, those 
first noticed. The fundamental principles, the 
primary laws and facts, of both sciencies are 
now, beyond doubt, well ascertained, and must 
always be taught in their schools. But the ex- 
tent and particular application of each which 
are required in a given time and place, must 
be decided by the circumstances of the teacher 
and pupil. The chemical elements are well 
known, their atomic weights, and their various 
affinities. Still, observation of the wants of 
our community only, should determine whether 



i North Carolina the attention of pupils will 
;e most profitably directed to the chemistry of 
.griculture on that of manufactures. We do 
uot as yet know what proportion of attention 
will be required by our Druggists, Miners, As- 
sayists and Custom-house Inspectors. The 
phenomena of inertia and of motion — the sour- 
ces of Force, and the laws that control its com- 
position and resolution, have engaged the at- 
tention of our ablest Philosphers for successive 
generations, and by the aid of the higher Math- 
ematics they have been pretty well reduced to 
available forms. Still, observation and experi- 
ence onry can decide what special applications 
of these principles in the various schemes of in- 
ternal improvement, shall most engage our at- 
tention. Some of these points may be settled at 
once. In North Carolina we are now a farming 
people, and there are strong inducements for our 
fellow-citizens to engage largely in mines and 
manufactures. Hence, the analyses of soils, of 
minerals, and of melals — the economy of water 
power— the dyking of rivers — the draining of 
swamps — and increased facilities for intercom- 
munication, must by no means be overlooked. 
Proper instruction in these few particulars will 
of itself necessitate progress and attention to 
many perhaps unsuspected, or now unprofita- 
ble applications of science. Foi it should not 
be forgotten that chemistry and natural philos- 
ophy are rapidly developing sciences, and there- 
by are creating daily new wants among man- 
kind, and so may be themselves the means of 
introducing new arts into our community. — 
Some of the first teachers of chemical science 
are still alive, and even since I was under your 
care at College, its nomenclature has under- 
gone a complete metamorphosis, a change in- 
dicating that its facts and theories have under- 
gone a corresponding. modification. Fifteen 
years ago, very few looked on Agriculture as a 
science,sofewand isolated were its facts,so crude 
its theories, so impracticable its suggestions, 
but now throughout the civilized world, chem- 
ists and farmers, and machinists and printers, 
are equally interested in developing its stores 
of wealth, and exulting in the boundless pros- 
pect opening before them. Twenty years ago, 
years of study and seclusion were necessary to 
teach the pliant pencil of the artist to copy the 
beautiful forms and colors of nature — now he 
travels round with chemicals and a Daguerreo- 
type-box. Locomotion at the rate of twelve 
miles an hour was deemed a visionary scheme 
thirty years since — now one mile a minute is 
too slow. In 18S8, the station houses on the 

London and Birmingham Railroad cost £700,- 
000, when their builders expected £70,000 
would be amply sufficient — now the Engineers, 
whose expenses exceed their estimates by one- 
tenth part, are pronounced unfit for their of- 

Under these circumstances, it must be a mat- 
ter of impossibility to detail, in advance, all 
that shall be taught in our University in either 
of the new departments. 

So far I have dwelt rather upon the difiicul • 
ties of the problem you have presented me — not 
in a spirit of despondancy, nor to enhance my 
own work — but to show cause why such plans 
as I may propose are so vague, and perhaps ap- 
parently disproportionate to the ends in view. 
In order that I might begin my labors here 
with all the information I could well obtain in 
this country, I have examined during the last 
six months, nearly all the Scientific schools in 
the United States. The time which the libera- 
lity of the Trustees put at my disposal, I spent 
mainly at Harvard College, engaged in such 
studies, as would be most necessary for me, in 
entering on my new duties. Nevertheless I 
made several excursions, for the purpose of in- 
specting the Scientific Schools at Troy and 
West Point, at Yale and Brown. I have ob- 
tained reports from schools in other States, and 
have besides enjoyed ample opportunities for 
consultation with many of the leading scientific 
men of our country. The schools that I have 
mentioned are all situated, as you will notice, 
in all the North-eastern part of the United 
States, amid the principal centres of commerce 
and manufacture. These circumstances secure 
them great uniformity of type. The applica- 
tions of Science are very nearly the same in all. 
The diversities that exist, relate chiefly to the 
manner of teaching, and may be traced to the 
peculiarities and education of the teachers them- 
selves. Some of them are graduates of Wes 1 
Point, and in their schools, we generally meet 
the same text-books, and the same methods of 
using them. They appear to drill their pupils 
carefully in the principles of each science, by 
means of recitations on definite portions of ge- 
nerally approved text-books. The special ap- 
plications of these principles are taught to some 
extent, but the pupils are rather trained to make 
these applications for themselves in future life. 
In the schools presided over by the graduates 
of our Academic Institutions, lectures are used 
almost altogether. These are said to be 
equally effective with text-books in familiaris- 
ing the minds of students, with the principles 



to be inculcated, and besides afford very many- 
opportunities for calling attention to the special 
applications of the principles referred to. Had 
I to choose between these two systems of in- 
struction, I would unhesitatingly avow my pre- 
ference for that of West Point. Its programme 
is not so brilliant, and it requires of both teach- 
er and pupil, far more sustained and self-deny- 
ing labor. But its results are more satisfacto- 
ry to those im nediately connected with it, and 
infinitely more advantageous to the public. — 
Happily, however, we are not restricted to a 
choice between the two systems, and I think it 
well worth the while to attempt a union of the 
best features of both. I would introduce the 
sciences by means of text-books, and familiarize 
the immature and inexjierienced minds of our 
pupils to the definitions, demonstrations, theo- 
ries and formulae connected with them by un- 
remitting, and daily recitations. But I would 
also use lectures as reviews of the subjects al- 
ready somewhat familiar to the students, and 
to give them connected views of what their 
text-books might leave too much isolated, and 
also to impart information now lying scattered 
in periodicals, monographs and Transactions of 
Scientific Associations. 

The young men who may avail themselves of 
the facilities for professional education, afforded 
by our new departments, I would for the sake 
of convenience, distinguish into University and 
Scientific Students. The Scientific Students 
are to be those who may resort here to join the 
Scientific school only — not having the time, the 
inclination, or the means to use the advantages 
of our Academic course. To enter on their 
course as Engineers, these students should be re- 
quired to possess a competent knowledge of A- 
rithmetic, Algebra,Geometry and Trigonometry. 
If they are to be chemists, they must have a 
somewhat extensive acquaintance with the ob- 
jects, elements, and methods of Chemistry. In 
Eng : neering, the pupils shall have while here, 
a full course of Analytical Geometry, and of 
Differentia! and Integral Calculus— of descrip- 
tive Geometry and its applications in Perspec- 
tive, Draughting, Shades and Shadows, and of 
theoretical and applied Mechanics— besides in- 
struction in many particulars of practice con- 
nected with their profession. They shall be 
taught the various kinds of drawing, such as 
landscape, mechanical, isometrical, and topo- 
graphical, together with the use of water-colors. 
The princ'pal instruments to be used in the 
field should be at their service, that they be 
made practically acquainted with their con- 

struction, adjustments and use, and with the 
reductions of the data they afford as applica 
tions of the principles presented in their text- 
books. Lectures shall be given as the necessi- 
ties of the pupils require — to present in new 
lights subjects already dwelt upon in detail, or 
to furnish information demanded by the peculi- 
ar wants of our own citizens. All Engineering 
students will be required to spend a portion of 
their time in the Analytical Laboratory to learn 
some of its facts, and of its simpler and more 
common manipulations, and to receive instruc- 
tion in Mineralogy and Geology. 

In Chemistry the Scientific Students will be 
engaged most of their time in the various prac- 
tical operations connected with the analysis of 
compound bodies, and the synthesis of Chemical 
elements, under the immediate supervision of 
Prof. Hedrick. There will be to all the Students 
in Chemistry, a common course in quantitative 
and qualitative analysis. When this is com- 
pleted, special instruction will be afforded to 
each pupil according as he wishes to devote his 
attention to Agriculture — Manufacture — Phar- 
macy — the Custom-house, or to Mining and 
Metallurgy. Mineralogy and Geology must also 
occupy of their time a portion proportionate to 
their great importance intrinsically, and in re- 
lation to the peculiar wants of North Carolina. 
Recitations in this department will be only oc- 
casional, their object being mainly to accus- 
tome pupils to the theories now used for the 
explanation of the phenomena presented by 
their crucibles and test-tubes, and to familiar- 
ize them with the nomenclature, and formulse 
of the Science. Professional Students should 
be encouraged to attend the course of lectures 
on Chemistry delivered to the Academic Stu- 
dents, but they should also have lectures ap- 
propriated only to themselves to supplement 
the teachings of their text-books. Especial at- 
tention will be paid to Agricultural Chemistry, 
and the pupils kept advised of all novel and 
useful suggestions and discoveries, in that, to 
our community, most important branch of the 
Science. It is well worth consideration wheth- 
er these lectures might not be delivered in 
such rapid succession, and be accompanied with 
such elementary instruction and experiments, 
as, on public notice being given, might attract 
from a distance gentlemen, who as amateurs 
are interested in the improvement of their gar- 
dens and plantations. Prof. Hedrick will also 
freely admit his pupils to inspect his own origin' 
al analyses and in vestigations-that their curiosi- 
ty' may be still more successfully stimulated, and 
the field of their experience greatly enlarged. 



The time that will be required of such Scien- 
tific Students as possess only the elementary 
knowledge described above, will be two years 
and a half, or three years. It is proposed that 
at the end of a full course either in Engineering 
or Chemistry, each worthy student shall receive 
from the University the degree of Bachelor in 

The University Students in the Scientific 
School, shall be taken froni those of the Aca- 
demic course, who, not sooner than the close of 
the first session of the Senior Year, desire to 
prepare themselves for a professional life either 
' as Engineers, or as Chemists. They will be 
expected to spend eighteen months in the Scien- 
tific School, and the instruction afforded to 
them will be the same in all respects as that 
afforded to the Scientific Students, with the 
exception of those particulars already attended 
to in their Academic course. They might re- 
ceive the degree of Bachelor in Arts, with their 
classmates, and in addition at the end of their 
Scientific course the degree of Master in Arts. 
Greater rewards are thus proposed for our Uni- 
versity than for our Scientific pupils, because 
it is expected that they will be the more valua- 
ble class of Students. For it has been found 
that in Engineering and in Chemistry as in 
Medicine, Law, and Theology, they will make 
the most rapid, the largest, the most available 
acquisitions, who have previously educated and 
disciplined their faculties, by the training of 
the Academic course. There will be also a de 
cided advantage to them in having attended a 
complete course of instruction and experiments 
in Astronomy, and Natural Philosophy — sub- 
jects of very great importance to every Chemist 
and Engineer. 

To accomplish the scheme of instruction pro- 
posed above, within two years and a half, may 
require for each scientific student two recita- 
tions a day, and as there will be two classes in 
the school, (viz. a first year, and a second year 
class,) their teachers must at times hear four 
recitations a day, besides attending to the daily 
exercise in the drawing room, in the laborato- 
ry, and in the field. The limi ' 3 time, and 
capacity of teacher and pupil in the scientific 
departments, seem to preclude them from giv- 
ing or receiving instruction in Natural Philoso- 
phy, Astronomy, Natural History, and many 
other important branches of science, somewhat 
attended to in our Academic course. The lec- 
tures, if not the recitations on these subjects, 
may perhaps be enjoyed by our scientific stu- 

dents without neglecting their own professional 
studies. Experience will doubtless suggest 
many instances where the close proximity and 
connection of the two courses may make them 
a mutual benefit. I may therefore be excused 
from considering such details. 

It may be interesting to know to what extent 
the application of science to the arts may enter 
as a means of education into the general aca- 
demic course. This is not the time nor the 
place to enter into a full discussion of a ques- 
tion now attracting almost universal attention. 
To me it appears tbat they can profitably en- 
ter, if at all, only to a very limited extent. 
Books on Machinery, and Analysis, although 
full of information very interesting to the 
curious, and of great importance to society 
in general, are to the Engineer and Chemist, 
what "Stephens on Pleading" is to the Law- 
yer, or " Watson on Fevers " is to the Physi- 
cian — they are books for professional men, and 
when taught to one class of pupils should not 
be sold to their successors, as may be the fate 
of Geometries or Grammars, but must be pre- 
served for constant use and reference in the 
practice of a profession. In attempting to 
teach the applications of Science to a class of 
merely academic students, the appeal must be 
made chiefly to the memory, and that faculty 
is easily overtasked in the young and imma- 
ture. Candidates for a college diploma cannot 
as a general fact be induced so to master the 
minutise of a science as to render its applica- 
tions in any degree interesting or profitable to 
them. Their object should be more to secure 
an amount of mental discipline than to acquire 
general information. 

There is an interesting class of students, for 
whose instruction, I would that we had time 
and teachers. I refer to those whom I would 
designate as Practical Students. These not 
having time or means to acquire the scientific 
principles of Engineering, still might learn 
much from the rules laid down for the use of 
instruments in the field, and from the exercis- 
es of the drawing room. So they might be- 
come very useful to their fellow-citizens as me- 
chanics, county surveyors, or as judges in the 
location and repairs of our common roads, or 
to themselves in properly planning and execut- 
ing internal improvements on their own farms 
and plantations. But at present it is not prac- 
ticable, nor perhaps even advisable to admit 
" partial course " students to the privileges of 
the scientific school. 



As to the probable cost of apparatus necessa- 
ry for the practical part of instruction in the 
new departments, it may be considerable, es- 
pecially if the school be successful. The ap- 
paratus should not be collected too rapidly. 
Books of reference, models and plates of car- 
pentry and machinery— of mines and geologi- 
cal strata, and instruments for Engineers and 
Chemists are costly. It is necessary that they 
be at first of good quality, as they are constant- 
ly liable to injury. Many of these models and 
diagrams our pupils may learn to prepare for 
themselves and for the school. Nevertheless, 
we need at present for the Engineering depart- 
ment, besides the apparatus already at the Uni- 
versity, a compass, a barometer, a theodolite 
and a transit, besides sight and levelling staves, 
drawing tables and boards, and plates of ma- 
chinery and architecture. 

In the Analytical Laboratory there will be 
needed a furnace with its facilities for sand- 
baths, evaporating chambers, and distilled wa- 
ters, balances for considerable and for inconsi- 
derable weights, a supply of retorts, test-tubes 
and crucibles, together with a stock of chemi- 
cals, and their necessary vessels. 

A room should be provided for the Analyti- 
cal Laboratorv, and fitted up with its appropri- 
ate furni;ure which need not be at all expen- 
sive. Instruction in Engineering mathematics, 
can be given at such hours, that the recitation 
rooms of the Academic departments may be 
usedJ'or that purpose. - A room also will be 
needed where the drawing tables of the pupils 
may stand unmolested, and free from dust. The 
centre of the University Library room, might 
be used for practice in drawing without interfer- 
ing in any way with its other purposes. t ' 

As to the cost of education in this school, it 
may be presumptuous in me to offer suggestions. 
I believe it is usual in our country to charge 
higher for professional instruction than for Aca- 
demic, because its returns aie greater, and more 
immediate, and because the capital invested is 
generally much larger, and more liable to de- 
preciation. The liberality with which instruc- 
tion is afforded at the University of North Ca- 
rolina is unexampled in our country. Whether 
this is to be continued in the new departments 
is a question for the Trustees to decide. The 
students will, of «ourse, provide themselves 
with instruments for practice in drawing, and 
with many articles which they will consume in 
the Laboratory. It is also usual in other Sci- 
entific Schools to make a charge for the des- 
truction of apparatus that inevitably attends the 
operations of the Laboratory. 

, The organization herein proposed will effec 
a more intimate connection between the teach* 
ers in our Academic and Scientific departments, 
than is usual in similar institutions, and may 
require that the new Professors take part in all 
matters connected with the discipline of the 
University. In other Scientific Schools it is 
customarv to commit the elementary mathema- 
tics and chemical analysis to the more advanc- 
ed pupils. According to the amount of service 
rendered, it is compensated by their own in- 
struction being afforded gratis, and in addition a 
small salary, usually $100, may be paid. While 
this plan is very advantageous to the pupils 
themselves, it affords the Professors more time 
to attend to the higher branches of their de- 
partments, and to make those large acquisitions 
necessary to every faithful and successful teach- 
er of the applications of Science. Perhaps it 
would be well for us to have the liberty of mak- 
ing such appointments, if our necessities re- 
quire, or the funds of the institution permit 
them. I would respectfully suggest that all the 
students of our Scientific school be subjected in 
all respects to the supervision of the whole Fa- 
culty of the University, and that attendance on 
Recitations, Prayers, and College Worship be 
as rigorously exacted from them as from the 
Academic students. I make this suggestion 
in order to obviate the objections which clear- 
minded and experienced men have made to the 
union of such distinct departments in an insti- 
tution. Experience, will in a great measure 
confirm their judgment that such intimate as- 
sociation as we must have between young men 
reciting to different teachers, on different sub- 
jects, in different methods and for different pur- 
poses, will be rather prejudicial than beneficial, 
if they be at the same time subjected to differ- 
ent oversight and discipline. 

Such are the general features of the plan for 
the organization of the School of Science as ap- 
plied to the Arts, which after much consultation, 
and reflection, I have decided to offer you. I 
much regret that under present circumstances 
I have not had an opportunity for personal con- 
sultation with Professor Hedrick. As he has, 
however, kindly offered to endorse whatever I 
may propose on his behalf, I may suppose that 
even were he here, he would not materially al- 
ter these suggestions. The nature of the sub- 
ject discussed, or the amount of my own expe- 
perience and information must be my apology 
for the vagueness of my decisions as to what 
applications of Science will be most beneficial 
j to our fellow-citizens, and the general want of 



definiteness as to the methods to be employed 
in teaching these applications. 

In conclusion Sir, allow me to congratulate 
you on the general prosperity of our Universi- 
ty. In this prosperity, and in its widely ex- 
tending reputation you find the reward of your 
labors : so arduous, so long-continued, so self- 
denying. A new field of usefulness is now to 
be opened here, wherein the educated and dis- 
ciplined energies of her sons may advance 
North Carolina to wealth and influence as yet 
undreamed of. Should such success attend the 
enterprize it will be owing in a very great de. 
gree to the vigor, economy and prudence which 
you will infuse into the new departments. As 
late pupils of your own, Prof. Hedrick and I will 
be recreant to the advantages we have enjoyed 
and to our own honor, should we fail in every 
honest endeavor to reward your exertions, and 
to realize the liberal intentions of the Trustees. 
That our plans and efforts may be successfully 
and harmoniously applied is our humble prayer 
to Him who alone giveth wisdom to the simple, 
and maketh those who dwell in one house to be 
of one mind. 

With highest respect, 

Hon. D. L. Swain, L L. D., j 

President of University of N. C. f 

The necessity of two additional Tutor- 
ships in the department of Mathematics in 
the University^ being made apparent at 
the last annual meeting of the Trustees, 
Mr. S. Pool, of Elizabeth City, and Mr. J 
B. Lucas, of Chapel Hill, were appointed 
to discharge the duties of these offices. — 
The College Faculty now numbers six- 
teen; consisting of a President, nine Pro- 
fessors, five Tutors, and one Instructor. 

The young lady, who thought the Editor 
that wrote the last "Table" was either corn- 
ed or near -sighted because he said that 
the graduating class of this year was bet- 
ter looking than that of the last, is in- 
formed, in the first place, he is a " Son," 
and in the next, that his not being near, 
sighted is his great fault, as some near- 
sighted people take very well with certain 
female friends of his acquaintance. 

We think she was unhappy very in her 

choice of an illustration to prove her 
point. The class generally, the Editors 
particularly, and if it were not for sheer 
modesty, ice would add the one she allud- 
ed to especially, are all good looking, 
much more so, with due deffeience to her 
opinion, than any of the last class. For 
proof, we are willing to abide by the deci- 
sion of any other lady's — glass. We do 
not retract, as can be inferred from this 
article, any thing stated in the former ar- 

We are glad all ladies are not of the 
same opinion with her. She has bad taste 
as is " given up," but as we said in a for- 
mer number, de gustibvs nil disputandum. 

Salad for the Curious. — We have as- 
certained from a reliable source, that 
there are in the possession of a gentleman 
in Edenton, N. C, three original manu- 
script letters of Gen. Washington, one 
from Hannah Washington and four short 
notes of Mrs. Washington. 

The letters of Gen. Washington are ad- 
dressed to the Rev. Charles Green, Fair- 
fax county, Va. ; the others to his wife. — 
The former bear the dates, as well as our 
informant remembers, respectively, 1 757 
1761, and 1767, written, as will be per- 
ceived, during the General's Colonelship. 
In one, purporting to have been wr'ttcn 
from Warm Springs, Va., he describes 
very minutely the most accessible route to 
that place, and alludes incidentally to oth- 
er local affairs, interesting not per se, but 
because they were commented upon by 
the "Father of his country." This com- 
prises four pages of letter-paper. Anoth- 
er, communicating the slate of his health to 
the Rev. Mr. Green, urges that gentleman 
to visit him immediately. The General 
leaves us to conjecture for what reason 
he desires so earnestly the presence of his 
reverend friend. This is the shortest of 
the three, comprising only twelve or fifteen- 
lines. The last, consisting of two pages 



of foolscap was written from Williams- 1 
burg, Va., and adverts very briefly to 
those political topics, winch especially ag- 
itated at that time the public mind. The 
letters of Hannah and Mrs. Washington 
are of a private nature, discussing domes- 
tic matters, &c . &c. 

The venerable gentleman who formerly 
owned these letters, and has since given 
them to his son, has attained the advanc- 
ed :>ge of eighty-three. He is therefore 
capable of subscribing to their authenti. 
city, having in his boyhood, frequently 
seen the General's handwriting. 

On Saturday, 21st of January, the Col 
lege Officers for the approaching com- 
mencement, consisting of a marshal, four 
assistant marshals, and six ball-managers, 
were duly appointed. The marshalship 
was conferred on Mr. William H. Hall, 
who, in pursuance of his election, named 
, Messrs. A. B. Hill, A. B. Irion. H. Nichol- 
son and S. P. Walters, assistant marshals. 
Messrs. J. B. Gilliam, T. B. Graham, R. 
E. James. G. J. Pillow and R. A. Tor- 
rence, were chosen to discharge the du- 
ties of bill-managers. Preparations are 
now being made for commencement, by 
the several gentlemen on whom this duty 
devolves. We hope they may succeed in 
" (retting up " every thing in a style not 
inferior to that of our last gala-day. An 
ex-hall manager, just at our elbow, look- 
ing with intense interest on our sheet, re- 
quests us to express his desire that the 
present officers may be as successful as 
himself in obtaining compliments and be- 
witching smiles for kind attentions to the 
ladies. Let your motto be : — Carpe diem. 
It is generally believed that the ensu- 
ing commencement will be one of unusual 
interest. The gentlemen expected to de- 
liver addresses are not unknown to fame. 

A letter recently dropped into the of- 
fice at this place bears the following pre- 
cise superscription. iWe give it exactly : 

to Molley Ann II s 

Miss Polly H s 

miss Ellin H s 

to one or the other of 

these Names 

Comland County Fay. 

Ettvill poste ofice 
(with Hast) 
It is inserted as a literary curiosity for 
those who find pleasure in odd things. — 
As it bears on its face a wuss-directinn so 
far as "Polly " and '• Ellin " are concern- 
ed, there can be no doubt th;it " Mo ! ley 
Ann" must have been the recipient of all 
the wealthit might contain, for doubtless 
its contents were rich. 

Contributors. — Lees has again made 
his appearance in our sanctum. There is 
evidently a decided improvement in his 
articles. From the style, and from the 
nature of his subjects, we are led to the 
conclusion, that Lees is youthful. We 
have no acqaintance with him, but in all 
candor, we must say that we consider him 
a youth of no ordinary capacity. We hope 
this frank expression of opinion will not 
make him blush, for it is said wish an 
earnest conviction of his merits. We 
would recommend discretion and taste in 
the selection of subjects. Such topics as 
"Intellect," "Industry" and "Educa- 
tion " are hackneyed. Choose, therefore, 
themes that possess some novelty ; for 
the proper choice of topics has much to 
do wiih giving an essay character.— Phar- 
maces is no poet ; so we shall refrain from 
farther comment. — We were compelled to 
reject the article from Jonathan Coweeta. 
Entertaining for him high esteem, we wish 
him success; and recommend more purity 
of diction and the rejection of all cant 
phrases in future productions. 

The contributions that have been flow- 
ing in from all quarters, show that we 
have many zealous friends. We beg the 
continuance of similar favors. 




Vol. III. 

APRIL, 1854. 

No. 3. 




The troops of South Carolina and 
Georgia had not recovered from the 
consequences of the invasion of East 
Florida during the preceding summer, 
and were suffering from fatigue r< cent- 
ly incurred, in repelling the incursions 
of Provost and Finer, when Howe was 
called upon to redouble his efforts to 
induce the Governor to make prepara- 
tions to resist the enemy. 

A deserter, of the name of Haslam, 
from an English . Transport, that had 
put into Tybee, brought accounts that 
a British fleet was off the coast. These 
accounts were confirmed by frequent 
firings of cannon at sea, which sound- 
ed to the ear, like signals given and 
answered, indicating the proximity of a 
considerable naval force. At length 
tidings came to realize the worst appre- 

On the 24th of December, 1778, the 
squadron under Sir Hyde Parker, ar- 
rived off Tybee Island, near the mouth 
of Savannah river. These were joined 
by the rest of the fleet on the 27th. — 
Vol. 111—28. 

Colonel Campbell who commanded the 
land forces availed himself of this de- 
lay to procure infoimation. 

He landed a company on the banks 
of Wilmington creek, for the purpose of 
seizing and bringing off some intelligent 
individuals, from wh>m he could elicit 
accurate details. Two such were pro- 
duced, who furnished the most satis- 
factory particulars, concerning Savan- 
nah and the surrounding country. — 
They stated that there were very few 
troops in town ; that these few were 
much worn by exposure in recent ser- 
vice. That the batteries had all fallen 
into decay by neglect. 

They also pointed out means of cut- 
ting off the retreat of two row gallies, 
that had been armed for the defence of 
the river ; and they did not omit a fact 
of great moment, namely, that rein- 
forcements were daily expected. 

It cannot be doubted moreover that 
Col. Campbell received from these pri- 
soners, very accurate descriptions of 
the landing places ; and other useful 


and interesting particulars, relative to 
the town and its vicinity. 

Animated by accounts so favorable 
to bis wishes, Col. Campbell proceeded 
to make arrangements for the disposi- 
tion of a part of his forces. 

At the same time, he determined to 
commence operations, without waiting 
for the arrival of Provost from Florida; 
prompt action under the circumstance 
being more likely to produce success- 
fill results than action deferred. A 
junction Avith Provost might be una- 
voidably delayed, and the opportunity 
for striking a blow lost. 

While Campbell was thus planning 
the attack, Eowe was incessantly occu 
pied in preparing for tho impending- 

Before I enter on details, it will be 
necessary to give the reader an idea of 
the situation of the town of Savannah, 
and of Girardeau's plantation, as they 
were in December, 1778, these places 
being the scenes of the operations I aic 
about to describe. 

*Savannah, then the capital of Geor- 
gia, stands on a high sandy ridge which 
terminates in a bluff near a mile in ex- 
tent on the river. The ridge or high 
ground runs backwards for upwards of 
two miles, nearly the same in breadth • 
and is a remarkably level open pine 
barren. On each side of the rido-e a 
creek empties into the river, which oc 
casionstwo swamps, both of which rath- 
er farther back than the town are culti- 
vated. The uncultivated parts are thick- 
ly wooded. The swamp to the south- 
east of the town was passable in many 

• Col. Elbert's testimony in Howe's trial. 

places. The other to the south-west 
was c ir< e'y tat f r travel except where 
the road passed through it. On the 
opposite side of the swamp, below the 
town is Gira deau's place, (or Bren ton's 
Hill, as it is sometimes called) a bluff of 
40 or 50 feet high, and a ridge similar 
to that on wl ieh the town stands with 
this difference, that the ridge terminates 
nearly three quarters of mile from the 
river, leaving a swamp which is over- 
flowed by every spring tide.* 

About half a mile south east of the 
towij, Howe was encamped for its pro- 
tection, with an army of 650 regulars, 
and 100 militia, making an aggregate 
ol 750 rank and file. His attention 
was first occupied by the different land- 
ing places, for his course, he himself 
says, was to take its direction from the 
movements of the enemy in this most 
important point.f He reconnoitred all 
the landings with the Governor and all 
the principal officers of the army. 

There are several landing places, both 
above and below Savannah. Above and 
by way of the back or south river, there 
are Rae's and McGilveiy's landings, the 
former five and the latter two from the 
town, and five intermediate landings 
between them. Below the town are 
Girardeau's landing, Costin's bluff, 
Half-mom bluff, Thunderbolt and Mul- 
bryne?, the latter called three and for- 
mer five miles from town by land. — 
Those above the town were all of easy 
access to ibe enemy, by water, t-f those 
below, Costin's was accessible two ways 
by water. Some of these were several 
miles in the rear ot Howe's encamp- 

* Col. Elbert's testimony in Howe's trial, 
t Same. 



merit, and very rear the roaa wfiicli lie 
would be obliged to take, if he should 
be compelled to retreat ; the road and 
river running parallel to each other. — 
All the landings, both above and below 
Savannah with the exception of Girar- 
deau's are on high ground, with roads 
leading from them to the town. 

The impossibility of ascertaining 
which of these landings the enemy 
would select, pressed upon Howe's mind 
as a subject of solicitude. Many ad- 
vantages were calculated to attract the 
enemy to a landing place above the 
town. Howe believed almost to the 
last that the attempt to land would be 
made in that direction. He stationed 
the gallies at particular points, and by 
guard boats from them watched the 
enemy's movements closely. 

From the 24th December to the 
morning of the 29th, it y was a matter 
of earnest discussion among the officers, 
civil as well as military, which land- 
ing place would be ultimately fixed 
upon by the enemy. Howe and Hous- 
ton were present at these discussions. 

From the commencement of Howe's 
administration, as I have shown by his 
letters, his attention was directed to the 
defenceless condition of the sea coast 
of Georgia. Looking upon an inva- 
sion as inevitable, he had, for the last 
two years seized upon every opportuni- 
ty to urge upon the Executive and Leg- 
islative departments of the State, the 
absolute necessity of taking immediate 
and energetic measures to fortify every 
vulnerable point. The Legislature re- 
jected his advise with contempt. The 
Governor always lavish of promises was 
uniformly faithless in fulfilment of them. 

At length Howe's prediction was ve- 

rified. The enemy landed on the shores 
of Georgia. It was too late to attempt 
any fortifications. It was now tlie anx- 
ious desire of the American Comman- 
der to ascertain the landing place at 
which the enemy would disembark. — 
If it should prove to be one of those 
above Savannah he intended to order 
an immediate retreat. If below at 
Girardeau's he meditated an opposite 
course. The position which he occu- 
pied and which he deemed impregna- 
ble would enable him to repulse the 
enemy, at least until the arrival of re- 

There are passages in the testimony 
given in Howe's trial, which refer to 
these matters, from which I will make 
extracts. This mode may not be so 
agreeable to the cultivated taste of the 
reader, as the distribution of the mat- 
ter under. different heads and connect- 
ing these by natural and easy transi- 
tions. But what I lose in dignity by 
this course, I gain in authenticity ; be- 
sides, the obvious advantage of gratify- 
ing public curiosity in relation to the 
trial which is the basis of my narra- 

Colonel, afterwards General Elbert, 
states that the Executive as well as the 
Legislature authorities of the State of 
Georgia were applied to at different 
times by Gen. Howe, both personally 
and by letter, for the means of fortify- 
ing the country at different places, and 
other measures were strongly recom- 
mended by him for the general defence 
of the State. Some considerable time 
before the invasion of Georgia, Colonel 
Elbert saw a letter from Howe, very 
full on the subject, laid before the As- 
sembly, which gave offence in conse- 



quence of his " attempt to dictate to 
them." Howe represented to the Gov 
ernor, that as many militia as could be 
collected, would be necessary. Labor- 
ers and entrenching tools were want- 
ing; — but Elbert states that enough 
might have been obtained to throw up 
works, that would have been of ser- 
vice,* &c, &c. 

Colonel Walton states that he saw 
several letters from General Howe to 
the Legislature of Georgia, without be- 
ing able to revert to their particular 
object, except one which was for the 
purpose of advising fortifications. He 
states further that applications were 
made by Howe to Gov. Houston for 
hands, tools, and materials, for fortify 
ing the State. 

With regard to the Governor's dis- 
puting the command with Howe, which 
he always did, except in great e/nergen - 
cies, Wahon states as follows : " I was 
under the immediate command of the 
Governor of Georgia until the 24th De- 
cember, when Gov. Houston relinquish- 
ed the command to Gen. Howe. These 
orders (for the transfer,) however, were 
not carried into effect unlil the next day 
(the 25lh.) As colonel commandant of 
militia, I did so, (that is, placed himself 
under the command of Howe) although 
he Governor issued orders to the mill 
ia aftf) wards.^ 

Mr. WearatJ the military storekeep. 
«r, another witness, goes even further. 
He says, " the Governor of Georgia, 
Contested the command until General 
Howe took position near Tatnal's house* 

* Elbert's testimony. 
t Walton's testimony. 
| Wearat's testimony. 

or in other words, took Ids stand for re- 
sistance." The latter part of Walton's 
testimony which I have iiulicised no 
doubt refers to this. 

I give Col. Ternant's testimony next. 
From the 24ih December, when the 
British fleet entered the Savannah river, 
to the 29th, when the action took place, 
the General, with the Governor of 
Georgia, and several officers of the ar- 
my, visited the several places where it 
was most probable the enemy would 
land. Ternant was present at these re- 
connoitering excursions. The landing 
at Girardeau's was generally looked 
upon as most likely to be chosen by the 
enemy, which occasioned discussion 
about the means most tffectual to pre- 
vent them, and in general to counteract 
their operations. It was generally 
thought necessary, and as Teinant un- 
derstood, agreed on, be ween the Gov- 
ernor and the General to erect a batte- 
ry on the bank of the river so as to 
prevent the approach of the shipping to 
the causeway and cot sequently the en. 
emy's landing and taking post on the 
bluff. The fort at Savannah was aiso 
to be tepaired and enclosed. The high 
banks raised along the river from Sa- 
vannah bluff to Girardeau's causeway 
for the purpose of draining the rice 
fields, were to be broken, so as to over- 
flow those fields at high water and ren- 
der the whole extent of them from 
Girardeau's causeway to the causeway 
in front. of Fair Lawn as impassible as. 
possible. These fields without pieven- 
tion were then thought passible for in- 
fantry by files, though not without dif- 

Some other field-works were likewise 
to be made in the vicinity of the place 



intended as a position for the I roup*, which 
then might amount to 650 regulars and 
100 militia. The means necessary t<> 
make these field preparations being in 
the hands of the Executive of Georgia, 
such as laborers, tools of all kinds, horses 
and geer for transportation of artillery, 
<fec, applications were made by the 
General several times to procure thein. 
They were promised in the presence of 
Col.Ternant by Gov. Houston, but never 
furnished any further than by sending 
three negroes on the morning of the 
26th, with two tools, and th^se went 
away on the evening of the same day 
and never appeared again. Col. Ter- 
nant heard the G"iieral several times, 
express his complaint's about it and re- 
peatedly send his ai Is, but to no pur- 
pose. The chief command was even 
disputed wiih him, which occasioned 
confusion and delay in every measure* 
Colonel Marbury, another witness in 
the trial says he heard of frequent ap- 
plications of Howe to the Executive 
and legislative authorities for means of 
defending it. 

The testimony of all these witnesses 
is valuable, especially that of Walton, 
as he was the avoived and implantable 
foe of Hdwe and never did him justice 
except when he felt himself compelled 
to do so by the obligation of an oath. 

As regards the supposed opinions of 
Howe on certain measures proposed for 
resisting the enemy, on their first land- 
ing and which are adverted to by Ter- 
nant, Elbert, Walton and others, it 
may not be improper in this place to 
repeat that Howe's course of action 
shows that they were mistaken in sup- 

posing that he concurred with the oth- 
ers. Such expressions as the following 
— " It was generally thought necessary 
— it was understood to be agreed upon 
— understood to be (his) Howe's opin- 
ion," &c. &c. although at first sight they 
seem to intimate, something like cer- 
tainty yet to the reflecting reader im- 
ply doubt in the speaker. 

Of Howe's caution in conversation I 
will give an instance. Major Roberts 
was a gentleman who held a very high 
place in his estimation. During the 
interval of suspense between the arrival 
and the lauding of the British troops, 
he asked Major Roberts' opinion wheth- 
er it was eligible, to take measures for 
a capital opposition at Girardeau's. — 
Roberts expressed himself very strong- 
ly against it, " and though," says Howe 
in his defence, "I had reserved my 
own opinion at the time I asked his. — 
He gave me reasons very similar to 
my own anil added, that he thought a 
smart guard, not so formidable as to 
make the enemy a vert to the other 
landing places, nor to disheasten them 
from attempting the approach by the 
causeway to the house ; and yet giving 
them a handsome check was all that 
was necessary at Brenton's*. 

Another instance occurs to me equal- 
ly striking. During the discussion be- 
tween the Governor and Howe's offi- 
ceYs relative to the proposed removal of 
the army from its position, at Fair 
Lawn down to Girardeau's, Howe re- 
mained profoundly silent, although it 
was a measure fraught in his opinion 
with destruction to the army. 

In his defence before the Court Mar- 

■ Col. Ternant's testimony. 

* Howe's defence before the Court Martial. 



tial two years after, in referring to the 
several other causewa s, on each *kle of 
the main one, which led from the river 
directly to B enton's hill ; ( r Girar- 
deau's) he emarked that "had he 
adopted that measure, the enemy would 
have doubled his army on both lianks," 
audit may he addeft rendered certain 
the capture or the slaughter of the 
whole*. Time was pressing and no re- 
inforcements arrived. Prior to this 
time, North Carolina with a decision 
that did her credit embodied 2000 
menf . These troops commanded by 
Generals Ashe and Rutherford, arrived 
in Charleston in time to have reached 
Howe at Savannah, before he was at- 
tacked, had they been immediately fur- 
nished with arms, but the Government 
of South Carolina refu.-ed to supply 
them, until it should be ascertained by 
the proceedings of the British that 
Georgia and not South Carolina was the 
object of the enterprise. 

Thus unsupported by South Carolina, 
opposed by the Governor and legi.-la- 
ture of Georgia, Howe was cast upon 
the resources of his own mind, and up- 
on the labor skill and appliances of his 
brave little army, for whatever prepara- 
tions, which the time, and their scanty- 
means, might admit of, either for de- 
fence or retreat. 

In the midst of his cares and embar- 
rassments Howe was alive to every 
thing that had a claim to his attention. 
Even matters that ranged under the 
province of others, and were not within 
his immediate cognizance, did not es- 
cape his notice, and consideration. The 

* Howe's defence. 
■(• Stedman's history. 

or of i. s conversation v\as so d-xer~ 
ously m in tain d, as to inspirit the in- 
habitants of the town and animate 
diem to ex ition in its defence. At the 
same time he suggested to them the re- 
moval of their goods as a cautionary 
step.* He recommended this course 
more than once to the Governor, whoae 
duly it was to advise them on this head.f 

Measures had been pursued for the 
removal of public stores, known only to 
the officers whose duty it was to pro- 
vide vessels and carriages. These were 
the Quarter Master General, Col. Wily 
and his Deputy, Dr. Wadden. These 
gentlemen were directed by Howe, and 
no doubt did pursue every method in 
their power to obtain means for trans- 
portation. These eflorts for the most 
part were in vain. The vessels then at 
Savannah, were either the property of 
private individuals or in their employ. 
On board of these the inhabitants wer« 
crowding their etiects, an\l they could 
not be obtained by any measures within 
the power oi the civil authority. — 
Howe's principles and sentiments on 
this subject were well known. He 
would not military authority to ef- 
fect a purpose in any except an extreme 
c'ase. His avowal is on record that he 
never did any act by military coertion, 
that with safety to the service, could be 
done by the authority of a constable.^ 
lie h«d engaged in the revolutionary 
contest, to procure civil rights n.d he 
prided himself on the consciousness, 
that he had never violated them. On 
the 28th December, the enems 's vessels 

* Mr. Wearat. 

+ Deputy Commissary Gen. Shefton. 

{ Howe's defence. 



sailed up the Savannah river, consider- 
ably above the entrance of Augustine 
creek, which looked as if the landing 
was intended to be higher up, but du- 
ring the afternoon the Vigilante, the 
Comet, and some other vessels, >ix in 
all, cast anchor opposite Girardeau's 
1 tnding which operated as a general 
demonstration of their intention to land 

Here I must remark the antagonist 
position of the two commanders. Howe 
was intensely anxious that Campbell 
should land at Girardeau's. He hau 
taken his position at Fair Lawn, about 
a mile and a half from that place, to 
await the enemy. He was sanguine 
even to enthusiasm, that he could resist 
♦very effort to drive him from that po- 
sition. He was apprehensive that 
Campbell might make a des-cent at one 
of the landing places above Savannah, 
hoping by that means to compel him 
to capitulate. 

Campbell on the other hand saw that 
Howe was watching his movements 
closely and that on the slightest demon- 
stration on his part of,* determination 
to disembark at any of the upper iand- 
ing-, the American army would make a 
rapid retreat and escape altogether. 

Howe had established a strict mili- 
tary police in every direction, particu- 
larly between hi' camp and the sea. 
Guards, videts, and sentinel- were post- 
ed at different points, .and patrols or 
dered out. Col. Marbury commanded 
a party of these last, and was directed 
to ascertain whether any of ihe enemv 
kad landed below, and whether any of 
theeounry people appeared to be go 
ing to the B irisb vessels. 

A party of volunteer horse command- 

ed by Col. Mcintosh was posted in a 
wood near the swamp on the right of 
Howe's position. 

Col. Vv alton was ordered to post his 
regiment on the flanks of the Georgia 
brigade, and to keep them underarms 
during the night, in order to act as a 
tiauk to that body in the event of a re- 

Col. Elbert remained at Girardeau's 
'til late at uight; posted a piquet of 
70 men, by Howe's order, — gave di- 
rections to Captain Smith who com- 
manded it, — and told him to be pre- 
pared, as he would certainly be attack- 
ed by dawn of day. Two mounted 
militia men, who were considered trust 
worthy, were stationed with him, with 
orders to bring the commander-in-chief 
the earliest notice of an attack. 

Wiih the rising of the tide the Bri- 
tish transports, which had been ground- 
ed, floated off, and moved up to theirs 
station. i 

Early in the morning of the 20th, 
Howe countermanded the orders given 
to Walton the preceding evening, (viz: 
to place the militia on the left of the 
Georgia brigade,) for this reason, that 
the bails from the enemy's vessels fell 
frequently on Elbert's left, and the mi- 
litia would be exposed. Walton was 
ordered to move them back to the com- 

At day break, on the 29th December, 
the first division of the enemy's troops 
were landed <>n the river (lain, in front of 
Girardeau's plantation, from whence a 
narrow causeway, of about six hundred 
yards in length, with a margin and 
ditch on e icii sxle, led through a rice 
swamp, directly to the house which 
stood upon a bluff forty or fifty feet 



above the level of the field, called Bren- 
ton's Hill. 

The light infan 4 ry under Capt. Cam- 
eron having first reached the shore, 
were formed and marched briskly for- 
ward to the bluff, where as before men- 
tioned, Captain Smith was ported with 
a body of seventy men. From this 
party a-* soon as they approached near 
enough to the house ihey received a 
smart fire. Capt. Cameron and two 
highlanders were killed and five wound- 
ed. The highlanders indignant at the 
fall of their commander, rushed forward 
with great impetuosity, and allowed 
Capt. Smith no time to repeat his fire.* 
The detachment not being supported 

The Inspector General of the army- 
met this and another piquet about half 
way between Girardeau's and II iwe's 
position. He had coliecied the whole 
,;> together, when he was met by the Gen- 
eral and ordered to take the command 
a;;d remain where they were until furth- 
er ord< rs.f Howe shortly after came 
to the determination, n<>t to waste h\> 
trobps by attempts to check the enemy 
at this point, but to remand them to 
their respective corps at the main posi- 

Of the two mounted milita men who 
had been left with Capt. Smith to give 
intelligence of the enemy's movements, 
neither reported to the General, though 
they had full time for that purpose. — 
• One of them had been despatched an 
hour before the firing, but he trusted 
the message to a third person, while he 

* Gentleman's Magazine, 
t Col. Ternant. 

rode five miles into the country to give 
notice of the landing of the British to a 
relation of his own. This is one out of 
many instances of insubordination w hich 
might be recorded in the history of our 
revolutionary war. 

Soon after Smith was dislodged 
Campbell proceeded to reconnoitre Gi- 
rardeau's plantation, and from an emi- 
nence saw Howe's army drawn up for 
battle. The British troops were put in 
motion before the last division was 

General Howe on the landing of the 
enemy at Girardeau's plantation, drew 
up his army half a mile south-east of 
the town of Savannah, across the main 
road, obliquely, or in some, degree to 
flank it. The South Carolina brigade, 
commanded by Colonel - uger, on the 
right. The Georgia brigade, command- 
ed by Colonel Elbert, on the left. The 
Artillery under Major Roberts, in the 
centre. His right was covered by a 
thick wooded swamp, and the houses of 
a plantation in which were placed some 
riflemen.* On the right of the wh-le 
a party of militia, under Colonel Wal- 
ton, were posted as if to secure the 
great road leading to Ogeechee, but in 
reality, to guard an obscure path which 
it was suspected might lead through the 
swamp into the rea>' of the army. 

Howe's left was secured by the river, 
in addition to which it was strengthen- 
ed by the fort on Savannah b'ulf, be- 
hind this wing, in the style of a second 

Along the whole extent of his front 
was a morass, which stretched to his 
right, and was believed by him, to be 

* Howe's Trial. 



impassable for such a distance, as etf'ec- tually as to be nearly impassable ; ye' 
tua ly to secure his wing. J done in such n manner as not to be ob- 

Tiiis morass was not visible to per- J served by those in approach, until al- 
•ons approaching, until they came quite ! most arrived at it.* Such was Howe's 
near. It, was wide, and the descent j position ; and it must be acknowledged 
sudden, and at a distance appeared like i to have been a strong one ; posses-ing 
a- plain, Oneof Howe's first preparations ! such advantages, that notwithstanding 
was a small work at this place, called a his inferiority in numbers, he might* 
Bedan, where was posted, Cape. Keith, | without being over sanguine, count 

of S iutlt Carolina, with forty continen- 
tals. A bridge, over which the road 
led, was taken up, and a trench cut 
across the causeway, for the purpose of 
further embarrassing the enemy. The 
town of Savannah, round which were 
the remains of an old line of entrench- 
ments, covered his rear. One piece of 
artillery was placed on his right, one on 
his left, and two occupied the traverse 
across the great road, in the centre of 
his line, in front of which, at the dis- 
tance of about one hundred yards, 
where the high ground was narrowed, 
by the approximation of the two swamps 
a trench was cut across the main road, 
from one swamp to the other — and 
about one hundred yards, still further 
in front was a marshy rivulet, tunning 
parallel to the whole extent of the line. 
The nature of the ground in front of 
the camp was deep and almost imprac- 
ticable, for troops to cross in order. 

After the bridge was taken up there 
was difficulty in getting a hoive over, 
though planks were laid fur tin- purpose. 
Tlie morass on each side of the creek, 
especially on the side next Fair Lawn, 
was very boggy. The road to the po- 
sition from Girardeau'- was broad. — 
During the night, of the 28rh, it was 
skilfully excavated in different places bv 
a piny of light, infantry, under the iin- 

on maintaining his ground for several 

Having received the reports of the 
officers who had been ordered to ascer- 
tain the numbers of the enemy during 
the debarkation, found the estimate of 
these, to vary from 2,000 to 3.500, 
thus — 

Colonel Elber, 3,000 and upwards, 
Colonel Ternant, 2,000, at. least, 
Colonel V\ a ton, 2 000, at least, 
Maj>r Moore, 3.000 and upwards, 
Liellt. Glasscock, '4 000, about, 
Mr. Gibbon, 2,500 to 3,000 f 
Of the march of the British army I 
cannot give a better account than is con- 
tained in the following extracts from 
Col. Campbell's official letter. 

Extract from C<>1. Campbell's letter 
to Lord Georye Germain, dated, Savan- 
nah. J -my 16th, 1779. 

'•Upon ivconnoitering the environs 
of Girardeau's plantation I discovered 
the rebel army under Major General 
Robert Howe drawn up about half a 
mile east of the town of Savannah, with 

* Maj. Porter. 

+ Colonel Stedman, of the British army, 
whose facilities fur obtaining accurate informa- 
tion, cannot be doubted, and whose veracity 
will not be questioned, states in his history of 
the Ameivcau war, that there were 2,000 land- 

ed at Girardeau'vS, and 1,400 remained in the 
mediate inspection of Howe, so efi'ec , fleet, an aggregate of 3,500 men. 



several pieces of cannon in their front. 

The first division of troops, together 
with one company of the 7 1st, the first 
battalion of Delancy'a ; the Wellworth. 
and part of Weissenbach's regiment of 
Hessians being landed, I thought it 
expedient, having the day before me, to 
go in quest of the enemy rather than 
give them an opp rt unity of retiring 
unmolested. A company of the second 
battalion of Delancy's were according 
lv left to c<>ver the landing place, and 
the troops march d in the following or- 
der for the town of Savannah. 

The light infantry throwing off their 
packs, formed the advance; the New 
Yoik volunteers followed, to support the 
Light infantry, the first battalion of the 
71st, with two six-pounders, followed 
the New York volunt ei's, ami the 
Wellworth battalion of Hessians, with 
two three-pounders, followed. The 
7 1st and part of the Weissenbach bat- 
talion of Hessions closed th" 1 rear. 

On the troops having entered the 
road leading to the town of Savannah, 
the division of Weissenbach's regiment 
was posted on the coss-road, to secure 
the rear of the army. , 

A thick impenetrable wood d swamp 
covered the ieft of the line of march 
ami the light infantry with the Hank- 
ers of each corps effectually scoured the 
plantations on the right. 

The troops reached the open country 
near Tatnai's plantation, before three 
o'clock in the afternoon, and halted in 
the great-toad about 200 yards short 
of the ga e hading to Governor 
Wright's plantation ; the light infantry 
except <d v ho were ordered to lot in, im- 
mediately upon our right of the road 
along the fence leading to Governor 
Wright' i plantation. 


Having accidentally met with a ne* 
gro who knew a private path through 
the wooded swamp upon the enemy's 
right, I ordered the first battalion of 
the7lst to form on our right of the 
road, and move up to the rear of the 
light infantry while I drew off thai 
corps to the right as if I meant to ex- 
tend my front to that quarter where a 
happy fab in the ground, favored the 
concealment of this manoeuvre and in- 
creased the jealousy of, the enemy in 
regard to their left. 

Sir James Baird had directions to 
convey the light infantry to the hollow 
ground quite to the rear, and to pene- 
trate the wooded swamp upon our left 
with a view to get round by the new 
barracks into the rear (if the enemy's 
right flank. The New Yolk volunteers 
under Col. Trumbull were ordered to 
support him. 

During the course of this manoeuvre, 
our artillery were firmed in a field, on 
our left, from the road, concealed from 
the enemy by a swell of ground in 
font, to which \ meant to run them up 
for action, when the signal was made to 
engage, and from whence 1 could either 
bear advantageously on the right of 
the rebel line, as it was then formed, 
or command any body of troops io 
fl ink which they might detach into the 
woods to retard the progress of the 
light infantry. 

The regiment of Wellworth was 
formed upon the right of the artillery." 

Here then was a halt between two 
and three o'clock, whuh continued un- 
til Sir James Baird got round, through 
the swamp to the rear ot the American 



Having giwn Campbell's narrative as 
far as the hall of his army, I return to 

All now was excitement in the Ame- 
rican camp. The commander-in-chief 
was incesantly in motion, and was re- 
peatedly seen riding along the margin 
of the swamp. A subject of vastly 
m<ue importance than the numbers of 
the enemy's forces, occupied his mind ; 
viz : a suspicion of one or mure 2 }asses 
in that direction. 

Col. Marbury on his return about <lay 
break from a patrol which he bad been 
ordered to make with a party, on the 
evening of the 28di, betsveen the sea 
and Savannah found that Girardeau's 
hill was in possession of the enemy. — 
About twelve o'clock he rode to head 
quarters with Gen. Elhert and Colonel 
Iluger, who told him that the Genera] 
bao! called a Council, and also that they 
had just returned from reconnoitering 
the swamp and found that it was pas- 

Some time after this the General sent 
Marbury to, take a view, and immedi- 
ately report to him; he did so and re- 
ported in terms to the same effect as 
those used by Elbert and Huger. He 
then proposed to the General to send 
him with a company to the pass where 
it was .apprehended the enemy would 
attempt our right. Howe sent him 
immediately to take the command de- 
siring him at the same time to look out 
for a convenient place for a post, and 
he would order up the men. Soon af- 
ter Major Giirnke was sent to i inform 
him that Col Walton would oceupv the 
ground and that the General would not 
send up any regulars. 

Marbury desirous to be employed on 

some service went to Howe and signi- 
fied to him that he did not wish to 
remain an idle spectator. Howe r«- 
quested him to remain with him, as 
when the enemy advanced, he might 
be u-efui*. The reader will see pre- 
sently how this arrangement with Wal- 
ton was brought about. 

Howe from the first apprehended 
that he was vulnerable on the right 
and he bad been diligent in his inqui- 
ries respecting the existence of paths 
through the swamp, that might enable 
the enemy to get into his rear. One 
path, supposed to be such, he had as- 
certained with sufficient exactness. If, 
was at the beginning of the swamp, 
that is a little below Tatnal's fence. — 
There, in the principal gap he had 
caused a redan to be thrown up, as has 
hi en noticed, which occupied the whole 
breadth oftbe passage. At this place 
lie posted «a strong piquet of 40 regu- 
lars under Capt. Keith of South Caro- 
lina. He ei.tertained apprehensions of 
of other, and weaker points which re- 
quired to be fortified, and he increased 
his exertions as the crisis approached. 

He endeavored to ascertain this weak 
point by the instrumentality of some of 
the most intelligent and enterprising 
officers in his camp. About three hours 
after the enemy had landed he ordered 
Col. Ternant to return to the army 
with the advanced piquets wbo imme- 
diately joined their respective corps. — 
He then sent this officer with two mili- 
tia men to reconnoitre the swamp in 
search of a pass. The first path sus- 
pected to be a pass defended by a re- 
dan was as I have just described it. — 

Marbury's testimony. 



Another was alleged to be a quarter of a 
mile further. Tertiant attempted three 
different times to penetrate the swamp 
at this place, and upon his guides pro- 
nouncing it impracticable discontinued 
his efforts and returned tc the Camp*. 
The General afterwards seut M.jor 
Potter several times, and on one occa 
sion he was accompanied by Maj. Do 
keuser, for the especial put pose of ex- 
amining the ground on the right. '1 hese 
officers made no discoveries. He sent 
as we have already mentioned, Elbert. 
Huger and Marbury. These officers 
reported what may be styled their opin- 
ion rather than the facts of the caj,e.— 
Huger, Elbert and Marbury agreed in 
opinion, that there was a pass, a practi- 
cable pass on the righ . Porter, Do- 
keyser and Ternant doubted the exis- 
tence of such a pass. Here then the 
scales were even. Howe paused, as 
well he might, for more of these offi- 
cers had penetrated the marsh and 
thickets from the entrance of the path 
at Milledge's old field, to the outlet on 
the common. None of them had af- 
firmed the fact that the swamp was pas- 
sable or pointed out the pass so that it 
C"uld be found. They had merely drawn 
inferences from appearances. 

While Howe was prosecuting these 
inquiries respecting the pass on the right, 
other cares were pressing on his mind. 
He reflected much on the possibility, of 
making a successful resistance to the 
forces that might be brought against 
him, and on the reasons which urged 
him to make a stand, and he arrived at 
a confident conclusion, that a defence 

* Howe's trial. 

was practicable and that duty required 
him to attempt it. He had taken a po- 
sition from which he believed, the ene- 
my coidd not dislodge him, and he had 
made every preparation in his power to 
maintain it to the last extremity. 

He believed that the officers under 
his command, although differing from 
him in matters of detail, yet harmoniz- 
ed perfectly in the leading objects of his 
plan. It was, however, due to therm 
10 call a council in order to obtain a 
formal expression of their opinions. A 
council of field officers accordingly 

From the uncertainty of the informa- 
tion procured by General Howe of the 
numbers and de: igns of the enemy, and 
to gain as much time as possible for the 
removal of public and private property 
from the town it waa unanimously a- 
gieed that the army ought to remain 
in its present position at'FairLawn, un- 
til the \iews of the enemy could be 
known, and their superiority so ascer- 
tained as to urge and justify a retreat. 

In consequence of that determination 
the following disposition was made and 
issued in general orders : 

Fair Lawn, 29 Dec. 1778. 
General orders and disiwsitivn of the 
troops . 

The South Carolina troops are to be 
toled off into sixteen platoons of eight 
files each, with the remaining files form- 
ed on the right, as light infantry; the 
whole to be commanded by Col. Huger- 

The Georgia troops to be Wined in- 
to eight platoons, often files each, with 
the remaining files, on their left as 

* Ternant's testimony. 



light infantry. The whole to be com- 
manded by Col. Elbert. 

The officers to take part as usual by 
seniority in their respective lines. — 
Those who do not command platoons, 
to fall into the rear of them as brlngers 
up, the better to preserve order and 
regularity in the line. Both ctrrps to 
be formed into columns, those of the 
South Carolina by platoons on their 
right, and the others also by platoons, 
on their left. They are to remain that 
formation, with the light infantry at 
the head of each column until fuither 

The artillery to remain in its present 
position, and to be in the utmost readi- 
ness to move or act, as th« occasion 
may require. 

The General requests and expects 
that both officers and man will distin- 
guish themselves by their firmness and 
persevorance, and by an exact observ- 
ance of orders. Should they be oblig- 
ed to retreat, it is to be in the following 
order. The troops will move off in co ; 
lumn* in the order set forth. The light 
infantry of South Carolina to form the 
advance guard, and march rapidly by 
the shortest route to Spring Hill, defile, 
which they will possess on both sides, 
and endeavor to maintain. 

The artillery, all but one field piece, 

will follow the South Carolina brigade; 
and Captain Roberts, when he arrives at 
the defile, will post his pieces, so as best 
to cover the retreat of the Georgia bri- 
gade. Colonel Huger and his men 
will act so as most effectually to answer 
the same purpose, and to secure the ar- 

The Georgia troops will follow the 
artillery with a field piece, forming the 
rear of the line; and as soon as they 
reach the defile, this columu, with the 
whole of artillery, will pass and f <rm 
on the other side of it, in such manner 
as the. commanding officer shall ihink 
best, to prevent insults from the enemv 
and secure the interest of the tro<pj 
from the head of the defile. Should a 
rout take place, the troops are to re-as- 
semble beyond the defile at McGilvray's 

Further orders are to be applied for 
or wiil be given, as circumstances shall 

Still anxious on the subject of the 
pass, Howe requested Elbert and Hu- 
ger to take the opinions if the officers 
who had composed the council that had 
just adjourned. 

To be Continued, 

* Ternant's testimony. 





It would seem at a glance, that as T 
have chosen an old subject, ceitainh, 
whatever may be said will be of thai 
nature. Granting this inference to be 
true, yet, like many others who write 
on subjects " as old as the hills," for 
instance "Education," " Happiness,' 1 
"Friendship." I trust, though the ideas 
be the same, to express them different- 
ly and perhaps wiih more force. 

Some may object to discussing such 
a subject in the pages of a periodica', 
considering it better adapted to a week- 
ly newspaper, and perhaps some would 
confine it to a professedly religious one, 
as inculcating a moral principle. I see 
not the impropriety of presenting to the 
public such a subject through any me- 
dium. Should not the didactic obtain 
a hearing as well as the argumentative, 
the pathetic, or the "agonizing?" 

Let others sneer and ridicule, yet in 
all frankness I must confess there is one 
phase of this subject, which has struck 
me with peculiar force. And of this 
will be the burden of my remarks. But 
it may be not inappropriate, first to 
consider other views of the subject, by 
way of refreshing our minds as to its 
antiquity, its obligation and necessity. 

We naturally turn ourselves to those 
most prominent in ancient times, to 
learn their views on important subjects. 
And though heathen, they may teach 
us many principles of morality, as well 

as filial duty. Refer to renowned Spar- 
ta — though in many respects barbarous, 
yet, there ol age met its due; even the 
laws required it. Parents must be re- 
spected, and children were yet the in- 
feriors. In opulent and luxurious 
Athens they had not forgotten princi- 
ples of gratitude to " time's honored 
sons." The young men gave place to 
(he older, and rose up at their approach. 
Go back to the days of Troy and the 
Trojan war. When, in the midst of 
angry words and threatened blows, the 
hoary Neston spoke, it was calm again, 
the fiery Achilles hushed, and bold Ag- 
amemnon knew his place. Not once 
was it, when this aged warrior dispelled 
the gathering storm. The young and 
the the brave, the impetuous and the 
angry, strove to do him honor, first by 
silence, and then by doing his com- 
mands. So it was within the walls, 
where noble Priam once sat enthroned, 
though now nought else but life and 
arms were his, in the dread calamity of 
a ten years war. Though famine 
threatened and destruction hovered over 
the devoted city, still, Priam's silvery 
locks forbade the exercise of resent- 
ment, or the bestowal of justice, by the 
afflicted people, on the royal house for 
the perfidy of one of its members, which 
had brought this last woe upon their 
once proud city. 

In the Roman history we find th« 



game degree of reverende attached to 
age, at least, in her exalted progress 
and continued supremacy. Men of 
jears ruled the nation. Hence th'- 
phrase, "Conscript Fathers," which 
was applied to the members of the Sen- 
ate, even after upstarts and inexperi- 
enced minds assumed the place of eld- 
ers. If we consult, also that most an- 
cient of records, Holy Writ, we find 
there too, old age is honorable. In the 
law it is commanded, ''to honor the 
face of the old man." This Book 
abounds in instances of the respect 
shown to this class of persons. 

Egypt too has been, according to the 
accounts of Herodotus, and is still, by 
those more modern, no poor example, in 
this respect. It is often said, that a sure 
evidence of a nation's prosperity and 
advancement in civilization, refinement* 
religion and politics, is the attention 
paid to the fema! e sex. As woman is 
degraded so is the nation. This too ot 
which we speak is another, a most reli- 
able test. We read of some of the 
tribes of Africa and also of the Tartars, 
that the old are considered as useless 
and tuereiore, deserving no further r t. 
tention. Consequently, they frequently 
leave them to perish in the desert, eith- 
er by hunger or wild bea. ts. Tiuly 
this is ingratitude of the deepest dye. 
But what is' their condition as a people, 
degraded, infinitely lower than nature 
made them. 

Cicero (if I mistake not) relates of 
himself, that on a certain occasion, he 
being a young man, all arose at hi? en- 
trance and grey beards did him rever- 

This was certainly, arguing from the 
the old custom, a precursor, if not a 

concomitant of the eve of decline. It 
was at least, a mark of great degenera- 
cy. Mark the words of Juvenal on this 

"Credc bant hoc grande nefas, et morte pian- 

Si juvenis vetulo non adsurvexerat." 

From the very dawn of our existence 
as a people, we have been maik<-d as 
one giving "honor to whom honoris 
due," as exalting the female character, 
and, especially, as respecting old age 
and giving it the highest rank, in all 
our councils and officers. In the wars 
that so soon engaged our forefathers, 
it was the first concern to provide for 
the safety of the old, the infant and the 
female. No one held life as dear, but, 
that in case of a sudden attack, by some 
savage band or cruel Frenchman, or 
British hirelings, it would be risked and 
ev.n sacrificed, to protect the old man 
or tottering woman. To provide for his 
own escape was, perhaps, never in such 
a case the first impulse of a young 
American heart. Nor was it only 
when foes were present, threatening 
death and thus awakening the deepest 
feelings of affection, for the defenceless, 
in the heart of youth. No. When 
wars had ceased, and peace had spread 
its benign influence around, bringing 
comforts and prosperity, still, we wit- 
ness, the aged and the young standing 
in the same relation to each other. — 
Age was honored. Nor was it mocke- 
ry. I do not hesitat« to say, that it 
was not only in the expression of it, 
but to show respect for gray hairs was 
an actuating principle, and had its 
place in the breast. By the fireside, 
around the festive board, ov extraordin. 



ary occasions and in daily occurrences 
whenever the aged were present, clii: 
dren knew their duty and were not 
slack in performing' it. Privileges be 
longed to the ftld, and they were cheer 
fully allowed by youth. In the house 
of worship, constrained by the example 
and precepts of elders, they were alike 
respectful, obedient, reverent and sober. 
I remember an instance, on this point, 
?elated to uie by an aged friend, lb 
said, that in his youth it was cu-toma" 
ry for children, to sit together, attend 
ed hy some older person, throughout 
worship. It whs his business to keep 
them quiet an<! upon the least disturb 
ance, the offender, if at a distance, 
might expect a crack from the long 
cane which their monitor kept for that 
purpose. lft> v unlike, in this particu- 
lar alone, is the conduct of youthful 
progenies of this day. in those times 
the old man was respectfully saluted as 
he passed al<-ng the street, or the play 
ground of children. Though a poor 
man it was the same, we would then 
witness either a polite how <.r the fa- 
miliar address, '" Good evening uncle 
Jo," or something else of the same im 
port. But though authority was many 
times exercised with severity, in en- 
forcing obedience, though with stern 
look the old, whether parent or a friend, 
declared it must be done. Will any 
one deny the existence of strong affec- 
tion oveu under these circumstances ? 
It may be so considered, in accordance 
with the apparent philosophy of the 
present age, but not in truth. The rea- 
•on is obvious. We need but refer to 
the old proverb, "spire the rod and 
spoil the child." Here I have some- 
what digressed in considering the rela- 

tion of parents to children, but I need 

iot pursue it further. It has already 

been treated of with all just ce. and in 

h, manner befit tin ■ the subject by our 

friend, the author of " Childocracy," in 

i late number of the Magazine. It it 

ny object to address those somewhat 

more advanced in years, especially, 

those who have arrived at the years of 

discretion. And still before a radical 

change can be effected, parents must 

instil into the minds of children, from 

childhood to proberty, a due respect for 

old ge. 

How often, of late, do we hear this 
styled "emphatically an age of pro- 
gress." Though the phrase is com- 
pletely threadbare, and would, no d.nibt, 
if power were given it, cry out against 
being so forcibly expressed, and so of- 
ten. Let me, still, repeat it once more. 
Yes, "Emphatically an age of Pro- 
gress." A downright, headlong pro- 
gress. If the progress continues, in all 
ways and all things, what may we ex- 
pect from the succeeding age ? But in 
respect to some things, jnd especially 
my theme, thi< progress is not such ;.o 
one, as is desirable. It is a downward 
progression, L might more properly say 
"emphatically an age of degeneracv." 
The old of our day have a right to 
demand a better state of things. Just- 
ly do they complain ; at di well may 
say, with one of old, " Those that are 
younger than I have me in derision." — 
" Old," that venerable term, has latterly 
become attached to everything that one 
dislikes. The infant, soon has it on it» 
lips. The schoolboy, really it seems hia 
delight, to preface all his jabberings 
and especially denunciations with " c Id 
Johnson," " old Bill," or " old Sim," ac 



the case may be. Yea, it seems his 
boast, how often, hether on the play- 
ground or elsewhere, he can cry out, 
"old" with as many other vilifying epi- 
thets, as his young brain can conceive, 
or has acquired. It matters not, whe- 
ther, the object of his spite be a veter- 
an, one middie aged or but a youth, as 
applied to him, the same is expressed, 
the same meant, and it is the same old 
term. But, undoubtedly, it adds force 
to his youthful crowing, if his precep- 
tor be somewhat advanced in years. — 
This but makes him cry more lustily, 
" the old fellow." 

Ah ! here too i3 the collegian, we 
would have thought better things of 
him. But, no, it seems maturer years, 
sounder judgment and sober thoughts 
have no tendency to correct earlier ha- 
hibts, however slight their impression. 

Let us, however, judge for ourselves. 
Enter that large building just in front. 
Stop here at the first door. Listen but 
for a moment. You need not to put 
your ear to the keyhole. The sound 
com«s out full * old **** &c." Well 
go on. Perhaps you need not stop at 
the next one. You hear it as you pass, 
the same "old ****.» Go to this build- 
ing and that building, and still you 
hear the same old now with one suffix 
and then with another, just as the vo- 
eiferator may have chanced to have re- 
cited that day, or have graded in the 
Report. These, however, are only two 
of the causes of the exclamations, so 
loud, so°determined, so inveterate. But 
is it not one person they call old ? — 
Some one unacquainted with our doings 
miodit ask. Neither is it one, nor two. 
Nor is it he whose hairs are most gray, 
and thus designated through respect. 
Vol. 111—29. 

No. We number here the ex-publio 
man, the would be public man and the 
steward of the Invisible. Yes, and the 
verily gray-headed old man gets a dou- 
ble portion. Surely one might think 
there were no more old. But here let 
me remark, that this is a peculiar kind 
ofoldness. It is more commonly ac- 
quired by one's situation, than by any 
number of winters one may have seen. 
I would only add to the list, that long 
and eager but hopeless expectant for 
promotion, he also gets his share, and 
s« does he who has but just passed 
from the rank of fellow student. It's 
old from top to bottom. All are old. 
This is an exposition of the matter at 
a college. But does it go farther ? — 
There are man} things that college 
boys do and say, that parents do not 
approve or will their brothers and sis- 
ters follow their example. Let us see 
if this case is included here. We walk 
through a charming little, village. Just 
ahead we notice a fine house, an extend 
ed lawn in front, and all connected 
seems comfortable and pleasing te the 
eye. Sure one would think happiness, 
love and respect for alLthat is sacred, 
reverend and venerable dwell inthat 
house and about it. 

Children, in the mean time, who be- 
fore were unobserved, but which now 
adds a charm, attract my attention. — 
They are at play. I hear their voices. 
But stop, — what was it that boy said ? 
I can't believe it. Yes, it's so. He re- 
peats it : " Old dad says we must come 
there." Here, thought I, was the bud- 
ding of disaffection, and perhaps the 
germ which would ultimately bring ru- 
in. How remarkably true is it, that 
among the wealthy, there is frequently 



an alienation and deterioration, in the 
affections, existing in the same family, 
and not unfrequently between parents 
and children. But in this particular of 
showing respect for old age, we do not 
find a great difference with the more 
humMe. All join in substituting, for 
♦hose endearing terms father and moth- 
*r, the more modern and less affection- 
ate "old man " and "old woman." This 
is the practice now-a-days with young 
men, and it is attended by a correspond- 
ing change in behavior towards supe- 
riors, from the custom of olden times. 
The order of the day is, for the old to 
give way to the young. I need not 
teite particular instances. It is obvious 
to aft.' Tlie aged no doubt are aware 
%fit. A friend of mine, middled aged, 
remarked recently, that at his former 
|>lace of residence, he had not been in 
♦he habit of hearing boys speak to old- 
«r persons without addressing them as 
Hr., much less of hearing the oppro- 
brious term old u^ed instead. Now if 
Ihere was nothing else amiss but this 
loose way of speaking, it would be 
enough to condemn us of disrespect. — 
Enough to call for a reform. No 
good has, no good will result from speak- 
ing in so light a manner of those who are 
-above us in years, if not in any other 
tespect, which none but the merest. 
'Coxcomb, or the lowest profligate would 
Hiare asserts Respect, or disrespect for 
%ld agn, is an evidence of the state of 
the affections. If Uncultivated, they 
inay sink far below the common level 
I0f humanity. While on the other 

hand, we know nothing tends so much 
to the improvement if any facultv or 
endowment of the mind as its frequent 
use. This use strengthens it, enlarges 
it, confirms it. Respect is but one 
grade to love. And if this be wanting 
towards those who are properly and 
justly styled fathers, those who have 
cherished, educated and provided for us, 
who have Watched with a jealous eye 
and preserved for us, the liberty of free- 
men, who have put forth all their ener 
gies in advancing our country's pros- 
perity, if respect be withheld from these 
who will claim it ? What will be the 
objects of our esteem ? These only can 
justly claim our regard. They truly 
have a right to demand it. Yea, more, to 
these worthy patriarchs, we owe our 
deeoest gratitude. They have consign- 
ed to us privileges which years of our 
own exertion might not obtain. They 
too have opened for us roads to pros- 
perity and earthly happiness, leaving it 
to us to tiavel at our ease, while they 
have borne " the labor and heat of the 
day." Can we disregard such claims? 
If we deprive the aged of respect, it 
certainly must descend to none. Those 
of our own age cannot claim it. We 
owe them nothing. Respect must then, 
in time, be a thing unknown. Hence 
we observe, the affections are lessening 
in their susceptibility, sensibility and ex- 
pansiveness. The day of eternal peace 
and love must then be yet far distant. 
And we are putting it apparently still 
farther off. OTHKR T>AYS. 




We should like to set our readers guessing this month, not only the answer to the following 
Eni'nni, but its author. A gentleman well known in our State, and indeed we may add, to the 
U nversity, mi^ht not have b'ushad some thirty-four ye irs ago, to own the sof impeachment, 
white ver his opinion of such performances now. We hope he will have no objection to see it 
in print once more, nor be over curious as to know how we made the discovery, and obtained 
possession of it. 


Maids of that mount whose brow the clouds 
Where music's sacred majesty resides, 
Whom ancient poets d'd as patrons own, 
Though to the moderns totally unknown ; 
Attend ye fair! the prostrate bard inspire, 
And wake to symphony the hallowed lyre. 

Sages profound! whose penetrating eyes 
Can pierce the most mysterious disguise, 
I'claim your audience while my hero tells 
An artless story to the lovely belles. 

While some aspire to victory by arms, 
And some by wealth's more fascinating charms, 
By force or fraud, I never subjugate, 
But aim at empire in defenceless state. 
My riches, worth ; ray symmetry, my m : ght ; 
My empire boundless ; fetters, chaste delight ; 
In regal pomp I lord it o'er the will, 
And tho* unrivalled, grasp at empire still. 
Te, who can trace your origin from earth, 
Say* to what cause can ye ascribe my birth? 
For know, wheu earth was veiled in horrid 

1 dwelt in unextinguishable light. 
Unseen, immeasurahle space I trod, 
The matchless emanation of a God. 
And when the world was formed, He bade me 

The orbs that throng th' infinitude of space. 
Tet did not circumscribe me there alone, 
But through the world made my existence 

In splendor clad, and with attractive mien, 
Through earth my all subduing power is seen ; 
Still found ambitious of extended sway, 
Insatiate still, though more than all obey. 
Ye who oppose supremacy beware ! 
Nor to the test my powers madly dare. 

For I encountered gods, and gods o'ercame. 
Nor could such conquests my ambition tame } 
And thus elate, for victory still contend, 
Assured that my dominion ne'er shall end. 
When Paris, swayed by an unholy flame, 
To Dardan realms conveyed the Grecian dame, 
Trojans and Grecians I provoked to fight 
And many a youth consigned to endless night 
Lo ! the great chief whose arm knew no con- 
When fell ambition rriled his haughty soul, 
E'en though he sought interminable sway, 
Yet that unbending man I taught t' obey: 
For all his toils I could alone requite, 
And soothe him with ineffable delight. 
Ye bards ! renowned for visionary themes, 
Who woo the virtues of Castilian streams, 
How oft have I attuned the trembling strings, 
And borne your souls on fancy's giddy wings; 
Taught you to sing, while heaven w t l i raj tuit 

At once the subject and its cause adra'rxl. 
Lo! when Gpheus sought, by Love's con trot, 
In Stygian realms the mistress of his soul, 
Though urged by Love alone to th;it abode. 
To supplicate th' inexpressible god, 
Vain had his efforts been, and vain his wail, 
Could not my power with hell's grim chief pre- 
But I, an all commanding lovely queen 
My rule asserted in the world unseen, 
Silenced the monarch of that dreary den, 
And bade him give his captive life again. 
Yes ! when he breathed, I quivered from hi# 

And all the scowling flenda of death were mute 
Beware then bards ! irrevocable doom, 
Ncr rush unbidden to the darksome tomb, 
Lest lucklessly ye should incur my hate, 
And suffer worse than e"*en Narcissus' fate. 



I've killed, I've saved, dissolved the nuptial 

CSties destroyed and desolated lands ; 
And yet are all submissive, all obey, 
All pleased with my illimitable away. 



ft was many and many a year ago, 

In a kingdom by the sea, 
f hat a maiden there lived who you may know 

©y the name of Annabel Lee ; 
And this maiden she lived with no other thought 

Than to love and be loved by me. 

/was a child and she was a child, 

la this kingdom by the sea ; . jj 
•But we loved with a love that was more than 

I and my Annabel Lee ; 
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 

Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that, long ago, 

In this kingdom by the sea, 
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 

My beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
So that her high-born kinsmen came 

And bore her away from me, 
To shut her up in a sepulchre 

In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels, not half so happy in heaven, 

Went envying her and me — 
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, 

In the kingdom by the sea,) 
That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love, it was stronger by far than the love 

Of those who were older than we — 

Of many far wiser than we — 
And neither the angels in heaven above 

Nor the demons down under the sea, 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side 
Of my darling— my darling — my life and my 
fa her sepjjlchre there by the sea — 
/a her tomb by the sounding sea. 

A Parody on Foe's " Annabel Lee." 

It was many and many a year ago, 

In a dwelling down in town, 
That a fellow there lived whom you may know, 

By the name of Samuel Brown ; 
And this fellow he lived with no other thought 

Than to our house to come down. 

I was a child, and he was a child, 

In that dwelling down in town, 
But we loved with a love that was more than 

I and my Samuel Brown — j 
With a love that the ladies coveted 

Me and Samuel Brown. 

And this was the reason that, long ago, 

To that dwelling down in town, 
A girl came out of her carriage, courting 

My beautiful Samuel Brown ; 
So that her high-bred kinsmen came 

And bore away Samuel Brown, 
And shut him up in a dwelling-house, 

In a street quite up in town. 

The ladies, not half so happy up theie, 

Went envying me and Brown : 
Yes ! that was the reason (as all men know, 

In this dwelling down in town) 
That the girl came out of the carriage by night. 

Coquetting and getting my Samuel Brown. 

But our love is more artful by far than the love 

Of those who are older than we — 

Of many far wiser than we— 
And neither the girls that are living above, 

Nor the girls that are down town, 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul" 

Of the beautiful Samuel Brown. 

For the morn never shines without bringing 
me lines 
From my beautiful Samuel Brown ; 
And the night is ne'er dark, but I sit in the 
With my beautiful Samuel Brown, 
And often by day, I walk down in Broadway, 
With my darling, my darling, my life, and my 
To our dwelling down in town, 
To our house in the street down town. 








; ' Home, sweet home !" Well may 
the poets sing thy praises and wake thy 
dearest memories in song, for if there is 
one spot on earth more sacred than an- 
other it is " my own, my native home." 
Linked with it are all tiie first pure 
guileless scenes of life, and those bright 
hours will never cease to fall upon the 
heart in its moments of meditation as 
long as memory dwells with man, or 
recollection stills her wings and walks 
beside hirn ; for 

Soft in her airy step like an eternal spring. 
That silent treads upon a thousand flowers, 

Steals memory by, and wafts her gilded wing 
Bright with the past o'er these sad hearts of 

bringing again to life each moment 
spent at our childhood's home, and oh ! 
how sweet ire they, how full of warm 
pure affection which childhood only 
knows and which flows from the heart, 
like the waters from a bright and crys- 
tal fountain, free and joyous. Who 
cannot call its visions to him now and 
in them live over those old hours, 

Bright as they were when by some rill he 

When life seemed nothing but a dewy morn 
Sweet as when by his mother's knee he prayed 
Or gamboled o'er the fields of rich green corn. 

"Home, sweet home!" Thy memo- 
ry is like the dream of a starlight night 
calm and serene and tinged with a thou- 
sand spots of brightness. 'Tis like moon- 
beams on the waters, and to I he soul it 
is the fragance of an incense burning in 
the golden censer of memory. Well do 
I remember thee, my happy home, as 
thou weit long ago, when the grass 
sprang green on the sloping hill-sides 
around thee, and the waters of the lit— 
de brook, that ran through the garden, 
danced merrily in the sunshine of sum- 
mer. Well too do I remember the 
sweelbriers that ran up thy rough rock- 
sides, filling the air with their perfume* 
and as an incense from Naiure up to 
Nature's god. Their very sweets seem 
lingering round me yet, though long 
years are slumbering with the past since 
last I saw thee. How often have I sat 
beneath their shade and watched the 
blue bird build her nest among them 
or sat upon the steps and watched the 
sun go down at even ; but now there are 
many miles between us, and the sweet 
rose clings no longer to thy walls, and 
strangers now pass in and out at thy 
threshold, and save in memory I return 
to thee no more forever. Forever, 
forever! What a sad word it is. Ti» 
like the last tone of a vesper bell whe» 
the evening star first looks forth silently 



and the twilight de^s fall gently, and 
the tirtd earth is sinking to the rest, 
which is a lype of that last lung rest 
that shall continue forever and forever. 
" Home, sw^et home V It is pleas- 
ant to have Memory's Wavelets to bil 
low up from the past and sing of thee. 
A bard has said: "Look not mourn 
fully into the past, for it cometh not 
again." But what is sweeter in our 
moments of sadness than to have th?se 
little wavelets to cast though it be bus 
the broken wrecks and the silken but 
tottered sails of our past hopes and joys 
before us. Tis sweet though it reminds 
«s of things that can never be again, for 
it brings to us the remembrance — 

©f happy days when youth's bright spring 
In buds and flowers was sleeping 

When zephyrs light on perfumed wing 
Were through the wild wood sweeping. 

When time stepped light with angel tread, 

And birds sang sweet at even 
When virtue slept and knew not dread, 

But sweetly dreamed of heaven. 

When ev'ry tone that met the ear, 
Was like the harp-string's sounding, 

And our young hearis knew naught of care, 
But still with joy were bounding. 

0, thus they, my childhood's home, 
And youthful memories stealing 

Upon my heart, like spirits from 
A world of holier feeling. 

And life's dull heavy load of care, 
They still are gently lightening 

Or brushing off dark sorrow's tear 
To tell a bow is brightening. 

And like the bow of promise given 

To tell the storms were o'er, 
These memories point us home to heaven, 

Where we shall sigh no more. 


A story unenriched with strange events, 
Yet not unfit, I deem, for the fireside, 
Or for the summer shade. 


Lofty trees interwoven with deep- 
tangled shrubbery, a moaning group of 
willows, whose long branches give a 
cooling shadow as they rise and fall, 
with the waves of a laughing streamlet 
fiaked trunks with their white limbs en- 
circled by the clasping vine, here ai d 
the e a flock of wood land floweis form 

a nook not less delightful than those 
vales in which Sicilian shepherds piped 
for '' prize of oaten reed." 

Within this nook appears a "strag- 
gling heap of unhewn stones " the relics 
of a cottage, erected long before our 
lathers uttered that Independence 
which caused the thrones of Europe, 



unshaken by the floods of one thousaud 
years, to totter to their foundations. 

Grey twilight ha>J thrown her soft 
mantle over Nature, the wild wood bird 
was warbling her last note as a youth 
was leisurely enjoying his accustom, d 
walk. He was absorbed in thought ; 
but his reverie was soon broken — a 
rustling among the bushes siartled 
him. Fear, which the most valiant fee! 
upon the sudden appearance of a stran- 
ger, possessed him. In a trembling 
tone he asked — " who is there ?" No 
answer came. Soon the dwarfish form 
of an old grey-bearded man was mov- 
ing beside the tall and vigorous youth. 
Bellenden — fir so we shall call him — 
became curious to solve the character 
of t'iis mysterious being : " You are a 
stranger to these regions, I presume ?" 
askid the youth. The only response 
was a gasping groan and sepulchral 
laugh. After a short interval of silence, 
the old man began, " Many years have 
passed away since I came a stranger to 
tiiis portion of the country. Several 
years I dwek in this region — but ray 
hopes and happiness were soon blasted. 
For the last few years I have been a 
wanderer, seeking what I can never ob- 

" Young man," said he, if you will 
fellow me, I will show you the sweetest 
spot on earth. It is not far distant." 
Bellenden, after some consideration, re- 
solved to follow his strange guide. He 
was at one moment moved with com- 
passion for t ! ii* poor maniac — for such 
he seemed — and then an icy chill ran 
through his veins, his blood curdled, 
fear had unnerved him, 'he was about 
to give up his resolution — but the 
friendly voice of the stranger lured him 

on. Having passed over every variety 
of u n level country, dark winding paths, 
deep black forests, stony descents and 
precipitious passes, the youth thought 
of retracing his steps. But he had ad- 
vanced so far that he feared the at- 
tempt. The moon had for some hours 
been up, " going on her princely way '*• 
— and was shedding her light in silent 
brightness upon a spot just before them 
— at which the old man suddenly paus- 
ed. " Here," said he, "I was once hap- 
py." To all the interrogations of the 
youth he. was indifferent — he seemed 
not to hear — and as " better thoughts 
came crowding thickly up," he stood 
fixed and unmoved. In a trembling 
tone Belleuden asked — "How much v,f 
his dismal wild lies between us and my 
father's residence ?" 

The reply was, " I do not know." — 
The old man then asked, " who is your 
father !" Bellenden informed him. — 
Then followed a sudden shriek a hollow 
laugh and the words, " so I thought." 
"Let us go where he lives," said the 
youth. The reply was, " come, I will 
conduct you, but above all things I do 
tear your father and hate him, oh ! were 

it in my power I would " . At the 

utterance of these words a wild fire 
glittered in Belleuden's eye, his cheeks 
were flushed, the veins upon his high 
forehead swelled nigh to bursting. For 
a moment his face was convulsed, but 
soon with the calm expression of high 
resolve shining upon his features he 
said, " Hold ! hold ! ! old man you 
may suffer in your rashness. Let 
mv father's name and honor stand." — 
Without further exchange of words, 
they proceeded in haste. 

Belknden's heart grew big with joy 



as he saw in the distance what he ex- 
pected to find his fathers dwelling. — 
But the nearer the approach the more 
certain the delusion. At last ; 11 was 
disappointment. The hope had fled. 
Be fell as a lost child in the wood. 

His courage was about to fail him, 
he thought of giving over farther travel 
till morning, which he knew was near 
at hand. He observed the stars lessen- 
ing in number, the twilight of moruin 
was appearing on " the misty mountain 
top." A few paces brought him within 
a short distance of home. Full of fear 
ami joy he rushed to the house. The 
old mau followed him to the door of 
the room, where he had so often slept 
in by-gone days. The massive door 
swung softly back on its hinges and 
Bellenden was alone. Overcome with 
fatigue, he dropped upon the bed. All 
was calm. Naught could be heard, 
save the breeze moaning through the 
branches of the aged elm, which over- 
shadowed the cot. A few thoughts 
concerning his strange guide occupied 
him and he was asleep. 

The following day had somewhat ad- 
vanced, when he awoke finding the 
form of his mother bent over him, her 
water-standing eyes fixed upon him and 
his father impatiently pacing the room. 

They had passed a goodly portion of 
the preceding night in eager search for 
their son, and at last gave him up in 
■despair. Language cannot cenvey the 
feelings which agitated their bosoms. — 
He passed a portion of the day in re- 
lating to his parents the incidents, which 
had recurred with him and the strange 
old man. His father explained the 
-mystery : " Years ago ♦here came a por 
lion of the- British army through this 

section insulting, plundering and mur- 
dering whomsoever they wished, till at 
length tbey were attacked by a little 
band of Americans who drove the as- 
sassins away. I was present at the skir- 
mish. After which I found our sweet 
girl Ellenora by yonder brook, whose 
pebbly channel then ran red with blood. 
She was an infant. I took her as my 
foster child — but this you know. Long 
ago I saw the bonds of love closely 
binding your hearts. This gave me 
joy. That strange being who conduct- 
ed you home last night came here some 
time ago, telling me wherever 1 met 
him, that I had a jewel, which 1 stolo 
from him and that without it he could 
not live," &c. The mystery was un- 
raveled. Bellenden sat for awhile si- 
lent in thought. Evening dr t w on. — 
The rays of the sun were shooting 
aslant the hills, the birds were hymning 
their vesper songs as he withdrew se- 
cretly from the house with the firm re- 
solve " to beard the lion in his den." — 
Scarcely had the sun gone down when 
he returned with that self-same phan- 
tom, which had haunted him the pre- 
ceding night, uttering kind and gentle 
words to him. He, 

' ' Who had become a wreck at random driven 
Without one glimpse of reason or of heaven.'*'' 

was conducted into the hall of that well 
fitted up and simply dressed house. — 
The father and mother were pierced 
with amazement to see the maniac en- 
ter their household. His eyes were 
restless, continually moving as if in 
quest of something be longed to see. — 
Bellenden repealed to him, that his jew- 
el would soon arrive. That she had 
been far some months absent at school. 



and that she was expected that evening. 
The father assured him, that he was his 
guest for life, and that he should enjoy 
the presence of her, whom he sought? 
forever. All this failed to move him. 
He sat motionless as if in the "sileri 1 
manliness of grief." A few moments 
passed. The sound of a silvery voice 
fell upon his ear. He sprang "as if a 
trumpet rang." Ellenora tripped into 
the hall and was before him. The del- 
icately carved Grecian outline of her 
face, her flowing tresses hanging around 
her like " gold-hued cloud flakes," her 
form of faultless symmetry marked her 
as one of the loveliest of those who are 
made to remind us that there are an- 
gels in heaven. She was received with 
open arms by the family, and as she 
greeted, her dear Bellenden " a thous- 
and blushing apparitions" swept o'er 
her cheeks, 

" As light and shade upon a waving field 
Coursing each other." 

Her courtesy to the hoary stranger 
was unheeded. His eye was fixed up 
on her. He gradually attracted her at- 
tention. Soon, feelings that never be- 
fore had entered her bosom, stirred 

She knew that " time had rooted out 
her parentage." She was about to 
withdraw — 

"But something glowed upon her cheek 
And whispered in her ear, Go not till he 

The old man felt that his 

" Dearest wife was like unto this maid and such 

an one, 
His daughter might hare been— his wife's dark 
' Her stalure to an inch, as wand-like straight, 
As silver- voiced — her eyes as jewel-like 
And cased as richly." 

Something startled him. He rushed 
to Ellenora. The trembling girl was 
taken in his arms. Floods of joytul 
tears that had long been frozen at his 
heart now like "rills let loose in spring 
limes" gushed freely forth. But as 
language was strangled in tear.s, he 
could only say, " God bless thee ! Oh 
my sweet daughter." This flood of joy 
had well nigh- "drowned him with its 

Time rolled on. A few years after, 
the old man, who had lived to bless 
and make more happy his daughter, 
was grown into a " green old age." 

He lived to see Bellenden and his 
daughter one — joined by Heaven, each 
interwoven with the other's fate, and 
with his last breathings asking the 
blessings of God to rest upon them, he 
calmly died — 

" Night dews fall not more gentle to the 

Or weary worn out winds expire so soft." 

He was carried to his grave in a se- 
questered glen. Like an anihem the 
clods fell with dull sounds upon his 
coffin. His children poured out their 
libation of tears upon the dust above 

Years passed away. A soldier came 
and inquired for the grave of the old 
man. It was shown him. lie seemed 
more than a soldier as he knelt above 
the grave and wept over it. The only 
audible words that he uttered were, 
" My brave leader /" This old man 
had led the sons of Carolina over many 
a blood-stained field and had enjoyed 
with them " the clang of steel and shout 
of victory." But deprived of part of 
his existence, he was soon lost to the 



army mid unknown, he now rests in 
his grave, naught sings his requiem save 
the moaning winds tiiat stir the branch- 
es of the cypress that rears its fringed 
head above him. 

" There sleep on true hero, for the battles are 

Rest, rest thou in peace in thy cold narrow 

With the earth and the sod for thy pillow and 

Slumber on, proud warrior, gallant chief of the 




Messrs. Editors : I had the pleasure 
of l» ing present at a church situated in 
county, where a very large au- 
dience was assembled, as it was the on- 
ly church in that section of country. — 
Thinking that the following items con- 
nected with it, wo Id be interesting to 
the readers of the Magazine, I have con- 
clud "I ; o subm t them. 

Ttie condition of the church, and the 
character < f the audience, both strong- 
ly indicated the character of the Divine, 
whose arrival they were anxiously 
awaiting. Theehureh topped a gently 
risi g hil and was surrounded with tall 
and venerable oaks, which seemed to 
stand as sentinels upon th ramparts of 
its glory ; it was built in the : tyle of 
the Puritans, viz : of logs, which after- 
wards a spirit of internal improvement, 
prompted the people to seal inside with 
boards while the outside was covered 
with the same material. Near by it, 

there gushed from the cool vein of the 
a hill fountain sparkling and bright, 
which formed a prattling :• ook. 

At a distance from each side of which 
extended delightful meadows, enamelled 
with flowers which presented an en- 
chanting view. 

The sacre edifice and tents in which 
they camped during their big meetings, 
showed marked signs of dilapidation, 
which indicated thai; dame nature had 
been more profit e in her yearly gifts 
than the republican inhabitants could 
keep pace with. The individuals of 
this congregation formed a motley 
crew. To a refined stranger the ap- 
pearance presented by them would 
seem a burlesque on the " beau inside." 
Fancy any number of old men dre-sed 
in " Ion >■ tailed blues " of the olden 
time, copperas pants-, greasy vests, new- 
ly shaved faces, and mouths overflow- 
ing with thesucculency of tobacco, and 



dandies whose chins had not recently 
bowed to the majesty of a razor, peri- 
cranium* tipped with bell-crooned bea- 
vers, spotted handkerchiefs, hair brush- 
es, and diminutive reflectors of humani- 
ty crammed in their pockets, liair redo- 
lent with Bar's oil, and beavers so 
slick that should a fly light thereon, it 
would be endangered of being cut off 
from its terrestrial sojourn, and land 
"on the other si le of Jordan." Add 
to these another class not quite so elab- 
orately attired, with shoes run down be- 
hind and run through at the toes, and 
hats of pliant brim, which sung "Sip- 
pet eflip as the wind whistled how do 
you (\o ;" and you will have the out- 
ward characteristics of the male portion 
of this vast assembly. I must beg par- 
don of the fairer porti-n of this congre- 
gation whose manners anil dress I could 
but partially scrutinize, but suffice it to 
say that every log in the vicinity of the 
church was covered with fair damsels, 
inasmuch as they were forced bv their 
mammas, to wes*r their every dav shoes > 
bare-legged, while they carried in their 
reticules their Sunday shoes and stock- 
ings, in order that they might stop at 
some convenient place and exchange- 
About an hour after my arrival I 
spied as far as the eye could reach a 
little gray palfry pacing leisurely along 
a meandering pig path, bearing as I 
thought a common man, but who to 
my great consternation turned our to be 
tic preacher's, in confirmation of which 
I heard a fellow bawl out. the preacher 
is arriv ; the news spread like cholera 
in watermelon season, and in a very 
short time the never-to be forgotten fact 
was generally known. He was imme- 
diately surrounded by men, women, and 

children, who evinced great concern 
about the state of convalescence of Mrs. 
and children. 

I having of course some curiosity to 
see the personage whom the people 
seemed so much to idolize, precipitated 
myself to the sacred spot, but being un- 
able to work my way through the im- 
mense crowd, withdrew sorely disap- 
pointed, and concluded t-> await his ap- 
pearance in the pulpit, and to that ef- 
j feet I slipped in to church and placed my- 
self as near the stand as possible in or- 
j der that I might feast my eyes upon 

After every one except myself had 
see 1 the preacher and were perfectly 
satisfied that he had undoubtedly come, 
they began to pour into the weather- 
b aien church with sasafras bushes and 
jnnpson weeds growing onto! the chinks 
of the wall, like the ivy-clad battlements 
of some old baronical watch-tower of 
Feudal-times, which tumbled and crack- 
ed under this mighty weight as if it 
would fall, but Providence smiled upon 
it and it didn't. Shortly after the 
preacher was before me, and I had I he 
opportunity of criticising his external 
appearance, which modesty and respect 
I entertain for the ministry, forbids me 
to insert, but will leave it to your own 

Before I leave him entirely in your 
hands, I would ask you in the name of 
justice and "■down-trodden humanity? 
not to draw any hasty and unfounded 
inferences, but such as are altogether 
un warped by prejudice and unbiassed 
by scruples, which will ever after be a 
source of gratification and pleasure. He 
commenced the service by reading th« 
following hymn, which his manner and 



ton« indeilibly stamped upon the tab- 
lets of my memory, that time will never 
efface it, it ran thus, 

" Plunged into a gulf of dark despair 
As all ye guilty sinners is." 

After the congregation had finished 
the aforesaid hymn and ha having 
prayed, commenced his sermon, the 
foundation of which you may find by 
referring — not knowing where, I am 
unable to narrate, for his appearance so 
dignified and so indicative of high as 
well as sacred position which he held 
among his fellow-beings, completely 
monopolized my attention. After read- 
ing his text, laying aside his overcoat, 
the waist of which struck him under 
the arms, and specks, adjusting hir 
handkerchief across the top of the stand 
an shutting his Bible, lie commenced 
telling his spiritual experience, the sub- 
stance of which, time aud space will 
only permit me to give, which is so 
ridiculous and so repugnant to reason, 
that I shall forbear to insert it. By the 
time he had finished telling his experi- 
ence it was three o'clock, p. in., and he 
was forced to dismiss the congregation 
without adverting in the slightest de- 
gree to his text. 

After retiring from the church,! step- 
ped about in the grove rather large, not 
altogether unconscious that I was the 
only gentleman in the crowd whose 
habiliments had I een purchased from 
the store, a silent specator of the 
vast assembly. I noticed that among 
other things, that I excited consid- 
erable interest, and that there were 
many conjectures as to who I was and 
from whence I hailed and especially 
one little tallow-faced, dirt eating fel- 

low, who seemed to watch my motions 
as a cat watching a bird, until at last 
as if he had thought of something 
which he had long been unable to re- 
call, he commenced approaching me 
with hurried steps, and when he came 
up to me, he says, "see here, Mister, 
do you tote a swapping kniie about 
your clothes ?" I very politely excused 
myself, saying that I was then in pos- 
session of a good metal knife and was 
unwilling to run the risk of getting an- 
other as good. 

He then with a great deal of calm- 
ness and composure, remarked that I 
had the reputation of being a splendid 
wrasler, and that he would like to take 
a fall or two with me. Looking around 
and seeing no familiar faces, I told him 
that I was in the midst of strangers and 
had on my sunday clothes. By this 
time we were entirely surrounded, and 
several at once seeing that I was em- 
barrassed, stepped forward, said that if 
I wished to wrestle, they would stand 
to my back and see that I had fair play, 
and that we could retire to an old field 
where there would be no danger of 
soiling our clothes. After having eve- 
ry objection which I had offered, refut- 
ed, I of couise had to accept his offer, 
and so we retired to the old field. As 
we were repairing to the gymnasium, he 
seemed so very anxious to swap knives 
that I at last agreed to give him my 
knife and a phial of cinnamon drops 
for his knife and a pair of gallas buck- 
les. After adopting some rules by 
which we should be guided, we entered 
the ring, and wrestled (if it might be 
called wrestling,) for we did nothing 
but jump up, about half an hour, and 
the Lord only knows how long we 



would have wrestled, had it not been 
that I struck my foot against a stone 
and down I came, he on top, as I 
thought, but my enthusiastic friends 
bawled out doy-fall, it was a matter ot 
little consequence to me whether dog- 
fall or what kind of a fall, since I had 
fallen hard enough to break my collar- 
bone. After having fabricated some 
tale to tell the congregation, and espe- 
cially the preacher, how I had received 
the bodily injury, we commenced to 
retrace our steps, in a death-like silence, 
until the little fellow not able to con- 
tain himself any longer, said, "that 
feller thinks becase he has on store clones 
he can throw down anybody, he haint 
throwed this yiV About this time we 
espied the preacher making sacred strides 
towards us, the little vaunter was hushed 
by the more considerate of the party, 
lest perchance he might let the cat out 
of the wallet, approaching very near 

and seeing that I was weeping he ac- 
costed me thus, "Why do you weep?" 
I told him I was walking along down 
yonder, not doing anything ..tumped 
my toe, fell down and broke my collar- 
bone, bear it patiently my young friend 
said he, for the allwise Providence had 
some object in view, in inflicting that 
punishment upon you, he might Iiave 
done it to show you how easily he 
might have broken your neck. But 
the more he tried to console me, the 
worse I hallooed, until he at last out of 
heart, started off and told me next time 
to mind how I walked. In a short 
time a little one hoss waggon was pro- 
cured, I taken home, and a physician 
called in, who knowing my propensity 
to wrestle and supposing that I had 
been hurt in that way, asked me why 
I let that little fellow throw me, I told 
him he did not throw me for it was a 
dog-fall TRINCULO. 


To give anything like analysis of an 
intellect, at once so utilitarian, and so 
poetical, so versatile, and so gifted as 
that of Charles Dickens, is a difficult 
task. He is in fact a strange medley 
of a man. The singling out of his in- 
dividualities, and the andividualizing of 
his peculiarities and predominant traits 
m a writer, is much more easily felt and 

recognized, than portrayed. He is pro» 
vokingly mysterious. His resources as 
a novelist are unlimited, his imagina- 
tion of the most poe ic and lofty cast, 
his taste, elegant and jefined, his soul 
is full of pathos and sentiment, and hia 
knowledge of the human heart deep 
and subtle. His powers of analysis and 
discrimination are correct, his judgment 



sound, and he always has a quiver, 
\v«ll .-tored with shafts' of ridicule, with 
blasts deeply steeped in cutting bitting 
sarcasm. His sense and appreciation 
of the iridiicu'ous is truly admirable, but, 
oh, in pathos, feeling, deep feeling lie 
i» inimitable. He portrays to life the 
blasted ami blighted hopes of a broken 
heart, and as Ins artistic fingers sweep 
over the broken harp -strings of the past, 
he draws out such ravishing, JE dian 
strains of woe and plaintive grief, as 
will touch the hardest hearts. 

There is scarcely any writer whose 
works have been more generally read 
and admired than his, and dest rvedly so, 
for ail of them are good. The Old Curi 
osity Shop, Dombey and Sou, Nicholas 
Niekleby*, Oliver Twist, &c), &c, each 
has its own peculiar merits. But, like 
a lasty gardener, who in arranging a 
b ■•liquet, clips from this bush a red 
rose, from that a white, then a sprig of 
cetlar, then a lowly, modest lilly, or 
like the immortal Raphael in the con- 
ception of his " Chief d'Ornore," the 
peerless Madouna borrowed the mouth 
and chin of his St. Cecilia, and the leg 
and ancle of his Galatea, so did Charles 
Dickens from his previous works, pluck 
here and there a fine embodyment of 
thought, a felicitous expression, and a 
fine scheme, and united them all in his 
master-piece — David Copperfield. 

This is undoubtedly his very finest 
■effort, the characters are in such perfect 
keeping and so life-like throughout. — 
The whole plot is so very natural and 
simple, though not at all approaching 
to anything common-place and loose, 
that your interest is at once excited 
and is on the stretch till its completion. 

time to read certain books and a cer- 
tain humor to be in, to enjoy ihem. — 
Fur instance the best lime to read Lalla 
Rookh, is after eating a big dinner, just 
before you begin to feel sleepy ; the 
best time to read Tupper is when you 
feel very prosaic and paradoxical ; the 
time lor Rob- Roy, Ivanhoe, the Talis- 
man, <&c, is when you have been drink- 
ing gun-powder-tea, feel veiy romantic 
and chivalrous, like you couid out- 
i-tamp the noble Scot on his native 
heather, could thrash Salladin in a 
ti>t and skull fight and hitch Boz's-Gil- 
bert off the tower for frightening the 
young Jewess Rebecca so badly. 

But the time to read David Copper- 
field is at nigut in your room, the cur- 
tains drawn, a blazing fire on the 
hearth, and if you like — and can, a se- 
gar(?) and a hot bowl of Wlikins Mi- 
cawber's punch, (alas! we Father Ma- 
thematics,) at your elbow' The very 
iirst chapter in which David teils us 
that he is born, (wonderful memory 
that) is written in such a natural cozy 
s*yle that you immediately become fa- 
miliar with all the characters. 

You can plainly see the chagrin of 
his aunt Betsey Trotwood, when Bet- 
sey Trotwood, Jr., disappointed her, 
and you can almost hear and feel the 
sounding blow with her stiff sun bon- 
net which she laid so unmercifully on 
poor little Dr. Chillip's head, and which 
no doubt, caused him to carry more on 
one side after that than ever. The wind 
must be howling around the ears of the 
house, if you would really see and ap- 
preciate the snug little boat-house of 
Mr. Peggotty on a barren beach at Yar- 
mouth. You must imagine a fishy 

It seems to me that there is a special [smell, if you wish to get a peep at Da- 



riu's Jaiie room, ana look mio the look 
ing glass with its oyster shell frame? 
and to imagine him sitting on the look- 
er wiib his arm arounu little Ein'l)'* 
Waist, you ought to, have yours around 
■ , but as that can't be, at least, un- 
til next vacation, you wjil have to think 
" powerful," and do witliout the reality. 
There is one chaiacter which I certainly 
would rather conceive <-f than have any- 
thing to do with — Mrs. Grummudge, 
that " lone 'lorn oue " weeping in the 
corner. You mu*t get Mr. Peggotty 
to tell you some of bis tales, and must 
hear Han's honest boisterous laughter, 
and to complete the picture, you must 
imagine yours the Crocadile book, and 
the camphene lamp, to be the work box 
wiih St. Paul on the lid, and, a piece of 
wax candle, with his faithful honest old 
nurse sitting by and you have Mr. Peg- 
■gotly's. household complete. And now 
as " Barke's is willin' " I'll go on. 1 
would like very much to take a thor- 
ough review of this book and follow the 
admirable story out, but I tear, ere I 
got through I would find myself in re- 
gard to my readers like Burke did about 
his audience in the House of Lords, 
when after finishing his maiden speech 
full (hs he thought) of el quence, he 
found out that his audience had all left 
him, and that he was speaking to ''paint- 
ed boxes and red wool sacks," 

The story of the childhood and youth 
of David Copperfield, is one of the most 
natural, and at the fame time finished 
pieces of composition in the Eng ish 
language. The little fellow's sorrows 
and misfortunes after his mother mar- 
ried the man with the d— d black eyes, 
who, with his " murdering sister," (as 
his aunt Betsey called her,) ruled him 

with >uch cruelty, and al&o Ike hard- 
ships he endured, at Mr. Creak, e's 
^!iooi are truly affecting. The picture 
is finely drawn, of Ins associations at 
scBotl, the position he afterwards ac- 
quired, fend the acquaintances he form- 
ed, steer.lorth " the uead boy in school*,'' 
who bored Mr. MeiV anger, and cut 
his name, ''J. Sleerforth," high above 
every body on the, and Tom- 
my Traddles, with the porcupine hair, 
who u>ed to get flogged very oi'ten ee- 
ry day, and drew skeletons on htssi.-tte. 
Aias ! how nmuy black hearts under a 
fair exterior, and how oi'ten a nobl e 
heart throbs under a rough sbeli. — 
The days spent at Canterbury, with 
its antiquated, quiet streets, and the 
rooks flying round the domes of the 
Cathedral, under the pupilage of Dr. 
Strong, were as happy as his oilier 
school days were miserable. True there 
he saw and loved Agues Wickfieid, 
whom he afterwards married, and who 
is certainly one of the loveliest 
acters ever conceived of by an author. 

Then following on the j-t; g before 
us, each acting their respective parts, 
we see the detestable, sneaking, Uri th 
Heep, and his victim Mr. Wick.i< Id the 
"mined gentleman." I don't know of 
a more disgusting picture of humanity 
than Uri rih Heep, treacherous, mean, 
deceitful, under the hypocritical cloak 
of 'umbleness, he practised some of the 
most d.abolical designs, until tripped 
up and exposed by one he sought to 
make his tool, the egotistical, but, good 
hearted punch-maker Wilkin TMicaw- 
ber. (Query — Hav'nt we got a Bour- 
bon among us ?) After a while he be- 
comes a member of the Doctor's Com- 
mons, and falls in love with Dora Spen- 



!ow. Then comes the era of tight boots 
(and corns,) kid gloves — and Bar's oil. 
He did in fact have to " wait until the 
bird flew away before he got the peach," 
because during Mr. Spenlow's life time 
he sued in vain for Dora, and $f the old 
gentleman had not died as soon as he 
did, she would never have been Mrs. 
Coppertield. That portion of his histo- 
ry is beautiful, there is poetry pervad- 
ing the whole of it. And as a "fellow 
feeling makes us wondrous kind," all 
of us (young folks) can sympathise with 
David's feeling during his courtship, 
when " the sun shone Dora, and the 
birds sang Dora, the South wind blew 
Dora, and the wild flowers in the hedges 
were all Doras to a bud." Finally, the 
Canary birds, Dora's aunts and Tommy 
Traddles, (who is now in the Inner 
Temple, and, who is engaged to one of 
the loveliest girls, one of ten, daughter 
of the Rev. Horace,) having had an in- 
terview they are married. 

After a while his little " Child wife " 
dies and in the description of her death, 
and also of the fate of little Emily, 
Dickens bursts forth in such wild, deep 
pathos, as only the pen of such a mas- 
ter can portray. 

Then comes a black chapter, and a 
delicate subject is delicately handled. 
Steerforth the head-boy of Mr. Crea- 
kles' school, the early friend of David 
entered the little vessel — house of Mr. 
Peggotty, and eat of his salt, but when 
he left it, the locker was vacant where 
little Em'ly used to sit. Poor Ham, 
her affianced husband was crushed, the 
tendrills that wound themselves around 
his heart were cruelly snapt, and all that 
bound him to earth was (he said,) the 
hope of meeting him who took his 

Emily across the sea to make her a lady. 
Poor old Mr. Peggotty took his oil cloth 
wallet and stick and went he knew not 
whither to seek his neice, and enjoined 
upon Mrs. Grummidge to put a candle 
at the window every night for Emily. 
Yes, the serpent with his glittering seals 
entered the garden of Eden, where no- 
thing but innocence and purity dwelt, 
and selecting out the fairest flowret that 
bloomed there, breathed his poisoned 
breath upon it, and it withered, and 
the sweet fragrance which embalmed 
the old days of her uncle was blighted, 
and borne away on the wings of the 
sighing zephyrs. Steerforth, poor wretch 
met his fate after a while, and perished 
in sight of the very home that he had 
deprived of its dearest jewel. 

The panorama passes on, David mar- 
ries Agnes Wickfield, and the scene 
closes, being upon the whole, one of the 
finest pieces of composition of the kind 
in the language. 

Dickens is blamed by many as being 
two prolix, and having the powers of 
description almost too well developed, 
but I hard y think that such is the case. 
For instance, in one character, Mr. Mi- 
cawber, whom he individualizes ofteuer 
and gives longer dissertations than on 
any other, that complaint is often made. 
'Tis true, that to a very superficial read- 
er, there may appear to be much that 
is unnecessary, but by carefully reading 
every thing about him, one will become 
so perfectly familiar with all his little 
oddities and eccentricities that he can 
appreciate much more the remarks lie 
makes and the letter he writes. 

The introduction of several of his 
characters are looked upon as unnecessa- 
ry, but they all seem to fill out the 



scene. Like in Sophocles choruses, or 
coming down to modern theatricals, ma- 
ny of the fierce looking soldiers, dignified 
senators, and hardy Lackeys are seen 
and not heard, yet they all serve to give' 

a more perfect contour to the play and 
give it a polish and finish which if taken 
away would greatly mar its beauty. 

" W." 




Reviewers are increasing day by 
day — they keep apace, as might be ex- 
pected, with the increase of books, and 
in no country have they increased more 
rapidly than in our own. No sooner 
does anything in the shape of writing, 
come forth, than it is greedily seized 
upon by reviewers, and every part and 
parcel of it thoroughly analyzed. If 
the author be a person of little or no 
reputation : or if it be, his first effort, 
woe be unto him ! — they are merciless, 
and to be able to stand his ground, re- 
quires some degree of courage. 

The influence, which this class of per- 
sons exerts upon the reading portion of 
the community and also upon writers, 
is prodigious ; and as they are just or 
unjust in the same proportion are they 
useful or hurtful. It is generally the 
case that we find reviews of books in 
magazines and periodicals, which are 
scattered by thousands throughout our 
land. By this means many are enabled 
to become acquainted with authors, of 
whom otherwise they never would have 
known a syllable. Highly beneficial is 
Vol. Ill— 30. 

the effect of this, to which may be at- 
tributed, in no small degree, that gen- 
eral intelligence which pervades our 
people and which renders the American 
yeomanry superior to that of any 
other country. We could enumerate 
many advantageous results, which this 
diffusion of knowledge and consequent 
enlightenment of the people would have 
upon our institutions — this, however, is 
not our purpose. We design, in a few 
words, to take a review of reviews — to 
show what effect reviews are likely to 
have upon those who read them, and 
those who furnish matter for reviews. 

On the supposition that reviewers do 
justice to their authors, the effect pro- 
duced in these two particulars is bene- 
ficial in the highest degree. Giving 
praise where praise is due, we have be - 
fore us a true picture of a book, which 
may not easily be had ; and not only 
this, but the choicest ftowers of the au- 
thor are culled and placed in our hands 
with no trouble to ourselves. 

The author, rewarded for long nights 
passed in study, is by merited praise, 



stimulated to greater exertions ; and, if 
he be, as all authors should be, read}' 
to receive advice and correct mistakes 
pointed out, even censures properly bes- 
towed will be of service to him, since 
thereafter he will guard against commit- 
ting like errors. 

Again, condemning where condemn- 
ation is deserved, those scribblers, who, 
with no qualifications, aim at literary 
distinction, terrified at the attack made 
upon their papers pregnant with mighty 
thoughts, are consigned to an early but 
worthy oblivion, and the world, or the 
shelves of booksellers, is thereby saved 
from a bore. If reviews produced this 
result, and if properly conducted they 
would, their influence would be useful 
indeed, for there is much more trash in 
the world than there should be. 

But the supposition above spoken of, 
namely, that reviewers do justice to 
their authors, is far from being true — 
where now you find one good review, 
you will find ten or more not worth 
reading. The fault consists not in the 
style, nor is it owing, in many cases, 
to a want of ability, but to a want of a 
proper knowledge of that which is re- 
viewed. A reviewer, at the sacrifice of 
truth, will often sum up his opinion of 
an author in a short and pithy sentence. 
To give an example we call the atten- 
tion of the reader to that sentence so 
expressive of the character of Elizabeth: 
"She was more than a man, and less 
than a woman." It happens, in this 
case, that these words are extremely 
applicable to Elizabeth, — but only one 
in an hundred of such judgments are 
true. We thus learn to entertain wrong 
notions of writers, since, it being the 
universal desire of men at least, to ap- 

pear to know, such expressions are ever 
at the ends of our tongues. If they 
were true, they would answer well 
enough ; but if false, as they generally 
are, they serve only to make us appear, 
as though we were acquainted with the 
author, whereas in reality, we know no- 
thing about him, but upon an erroneous 
opinion base our own, which must, 
therefore, be erroneous. 

It was said above that it is not from 
a want of ability, but from a want of 
another nature, that we have so many 
trifling reviews. I mean by this to say 
that ability cannot take the place of a 
proper knowledge of the subject, — not 
that he, who wants ability, can be a good 
reviewer, for reviewers should be per- 
sons of the highest order of talent — 
they should be able to see every beauty 
of an author and every defect, to do 
which requires much penetration and 
experience. Such men are Carlyle and 
Macaulay : and the latter, as a review, 
er, is, in the humble opinion of the wri- 
ter, much superior to the former. 

One of the finest efforts of Macaulay 
is his Warren Hastings, which may be 
properly called a review of a review. 
The friends of Hastings, wishing to 
have his life written, employed Dr. 
Gleig, if I mistake not, to do it — they 
were to furnish the facts and the Doc- 
tor the praise. The consequence was 
that the virtues of Hastings, if he was 
possessed of any, were extolled to the 
skies, and his bad traits either smooth- 
ed over, or by a strange metamorpho- 
sis converted into virtue. Macaulay 
justly incensed at such a proceeding 
wrote his Warren Hastings, his ostensi- 
ble object being to give us an accurate 
picture of this man, in doing which he 



accomplished his main purpose by bes- 
towing on Gleig as much censure as 
Gleig had bestowed praise on Hastings 
— the difference, however, between the 
two cases is this, in the former, censure 
was merited, in the latter, praise was 

We have introduced these remarks 
concerning this essay of Macaulay, 
in order that we might give an ex- 
ample of at least one of the classes of 
reviewers, of which we are about to 
speak — we allude to Dr. Gleig. 

There are two classes of reviewers, 
whose writings are altogether unworthy 
to be read ; or if read, it should be to 
give them their deserved condemnation. 
The first are those who everywhere are 
lavish of approbation, of whom the 
above-mentioned Doctor is a represen- 
tation — the second are those who every- 
where are finding fault — and this lat- 
ter class greatly exceeds the former. 

Friendship or pecuniary motives may 
cause a reviewer to give unmerited 
praise, but where these two influences 
are wanting, we will generally find him 
censuring from beginning to end. The 
world is apt to suspect of insincerity, 
him, who is profuse of commendation 
— but a fault-finder is usually supposed 
to base his remarks upon an accurate 
knowledge of the person with whom 
fault is found, supposing no animosity 
to exist between the parties. Reviewers 
seem to be aware of this. It appears 
to us that they sit down to write with 
the determination to find faults, and not 
to do justice to the author under review. 
They do not take into consideration 
that we are all mortal and cannot, there- 
fore, be perfect — they make no allow- 
ances for human nature, but every little 

fault, magnified into a great one, they 
consign an author to oblivion, whose 
fate, after a fair and candid examination, 
would have been far different. 

For these reasons critics and review- 
ers, as a general thing, stand very low 
in our estimation, and the following 
lines, descriptive of such persons, are 
but too true : 

" A man must serve his time to ev'ry trade 
Save censure — critics all are ready made. 
Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote, 
With just enough of learning to misquote ; 
A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault; 
A turn for punning, call it Attic salt ; 
To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet, 
His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet; 
Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a sharper hit; 
Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit; 
Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, 
And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd." 

Another common defect in reviewers 
is that they take their own taste as the 
standard of what is right and wrong 
with regard to things literary, whereas 
principles ought to guide them. Con- 
ceiving all persons to be constituted as 
they are, they take it for granted that 
what they condemn others must con- 
demn — that what they praise, others 
must praise. So much for the fact and 
the reason why — now for the conse. 

Persons differently constituted are 
affected in different ways by the ■ same 
thing. Byron, when unjustly criticised 
by the reviewers of Scotland and Eng- 
land, was roused to anger, which caused 
him to write his celebrated satire on 
" English bards and Scotch reviewers," 
the effect of which was to silence com- 
pletely his opponents — it is said after 
the publication of this poem those who 
had been most hostile to him, were 



never heard to mention a word concern- 
ing the " Young Lord." But this ef- 
fect does not always follow unmerited 
criticism — would that it did. I believe 
it was Jeffrey who on one occasion was 
so severe in his censures upon a young 
and promising writer, that he died of 
sheer mortification and we know of an- 
other instance more lamentable than 

There lived in England some years 
ago a young man, whose name dwells 
not in my memory, possessed of the 
highest order of talent. Born of a fam- 
ily obscure and in destitute ciicumstan- 
ces, he contrived to make enough to 
live on in London, while engaged in 
writing a work, from the publication of 
which he expected to reap the richest 
rewards. The book was finished and 
no sooner was it published, than it was 
severely condemned by the London crit- 
ics, which affected the author to such 
a degree that he committed suicide by 
throwing himself into the Thames. 
This work, which, I believe, is now lost 
to the world, showed marks of a great 
genius, and had the writer lived a 
month longer he would have found 
himself placed on the highest pinnacle 
of fame. These effects are sometimes 
produced, though we grant they are 

Another highly injurious consequence 
resulting from reviewing ^books in a 

careless indifferent manner is that, on 
account of this, go ;d writers are deter- 
red from writing while the inferior are- 
influenced to write. Between a good 
and an indifferent writer there is often 
no difference in the eye of the reviewer. 
It seems natural, therefore, that those 
who write well should feel no inclina- 
tion to compose works, which are as 
liable to the censure as those of other 
persons, who are below them in every 
respect. The one expecting praise, the 
other disapprobation, where a writer is 
ridiculed or satirized, in the one case it 
cuts to the quick, while in the other it 
has no effect whatever, since it was 
looked for — a man of worth is afraid of 
ridicule, but the impudence of a pedant 
can face it with boldness. This may 
be considered as a far-fetched view of 
the subject, but I believe such conse- 
quences often follow unjust reviewing. 
At present our country is overstocked 
with writings of this nature, a large ma- 
jority of which are not worth the time 
that would be consumed in reading 

If there were more reviews of review- 
ers, we would see more justice done ; 
since reviewers, from fear of that which, 
they bestow so lavishingly on others, 
would be on their guard not to give 
unmerited praise or censure. 




" So you have ta'en up your bonny 
bridegroom," the wild, delirious and 
exulting exclamation of Lucy Ashton, 
the lovely and beautiful Bride of Lam- 
mermoor, as borne from the bridal cham- 
ber, she cast a dreadful look of abhor- 
ranee and contempt upon the shed blood 
of Hayston of Bucklow into whose 
breast she had plunged her brother 
Henry's short poinard, is significant, 
instructive and impressive. 'Tis the 
sad sequel of a, natural and " ower true" 
story which cannot well fail to deeply 
interest and highly instruct every one 
who reads it, for there runs through it 
a lesson of parental duty and moral sub- 
limity scarcely surpassed in the varied 
history of Romance. There may be 
seen the workings of pure, deep and 
disinterested womanly-love — there, the 
pride, faithfulness and independence of 
a slighted and despised young nobleman 
— there, the cruel obstinacy and impla- 
cable resentment of a hollow-hearted 
and wealth-elated mother — and there, 
the dullness, pusillanimity and stub- 
bornness of a fortune-and-royalty-seek- 
ing suitor. Hear me, while I briefly 
recount the main facts in this tragic 
story and deduce from them some of 
the many truths which they so evident- 
ly teach. 

Sir William Ashton, an eminent and 
learned English lawyer, according to 
Sir Walter, had, by his legal shrewd- 

ness and manceuvering, so grievously 
wronged and so hardly oppressed the 
proud and high-minded Lord AlleD 
Ravenswood that his days were few and 
troublous, and his death premature 
and miserable. The brave and haugh- 
ty Edgar, 'popularly called Master of 
Ravenswood, Lord Allan's son and the 
slighted and despised young nobleman 
like Hannibal against Rome, swore eter- 
nal enmity against Sir William. In 
the language of burning indignation, he 
loudly exclaimed at the sepulchre of 
his father : " It was only he that dug 
the grave who could have the mean 
cruelty to disturb the obsequies : and 
Heaven do as much to me and more, 
if I requite not to this man and his 
house the ruin and disgrace he has 
brought on me and mine." Nor was 
he slow or inactive in plotting the utter 
destruction of his inveterate, cunning 
and unprincipled enemy. 

Amid the wild shrubbery and rank 
undergrowth of the Baronial possession 
of his deceased sire, he clandestinely 
sought Sir William's life-blood. Eve- 
ry feeling of his enraged and enfuriated 
heart was so stirred and steeled against 
him, that one would imagine that no- 
thing, — not even the strange and ex- 
quisite beauty of the Lord Kuper's 
sweet daughter could have quieted and 
softened it. Spell-bound however, by 
her lovelines and irresistible charms, 



where he had determined, ay, sworn to 
be the destroyer, he became the defend- 
er and preserver of both Sir William 
and Lucy from the cruel and fatal go- 
rings of a mad bull which was pitching 
furiously toward them when he first 
came in sight of them. Then and there 
he won the sincere and lasting affection 
of both, and there the charming Lucy 
entrapped his proud young heart. — 
Soon, to cut our story short, their un- 
expected acquaintance waxed intimate 
and their happiness for the time being 
was consummated by the plighting of 
their young hearts at ihe enchanted 
Mermaiden's Fountain. 

" All " now " went merry as a mar- 
riage bell," until Lady Ashton, the hard- 
hearted mother of Lucy, who was then 
at the royal court, hearing of the be- 
trothal, hurried homeward to place upon 
it her unqualified and unchangeable ve- 
to. For the gratification of her insatia- 
ble passion for wealth, power and mag- 
nificence, she meanly crossed her daugh- 
ter in her first love and bargained her 
*o Hayston of Bucklow, a man who was 
eminently unworthy of her strong and 
deep affection and who was incapable 
of winning even her admiration. 

"Wrecked and wrecked, lost and lonely 
Crushed by griefs oppressive weight," 

and with a fervent prayer for Edgar, 
who had been driven from her presence, 
she resigned herself to her hard and 
cruel fate. 

Anon, the unwelcome period for her 
union with this unloved and unadmired 
suitor had come. Of Edgar she had 
seen naught, nor did she hope ever 
more to look upon him. Fortunately, 
in the interim, the news reached the 

Master of Ravenswood that she had 
broken off her engagement with him 
and had cheerfully consented to marry 
the hateful Bucklow. He returned to 
the Barony of Sir William to learn the 
truth of this unexpected faithlessness, 
and after a short interview with Lucy 
at which her tyrannical mother was 
present, he, having exchanged pledges 
and crushed under his feet the blue 
ribbon, which, in Lucy's own sweet 
words, was the " link that bound her to 
life," took his final departure in the be- 
lief that her love was feeble as the film 
of the gossamer and transient as the 
shadow cast by a summer cloud- — 

" Love me ! — No.— She never loved me ! 

Else she'd sooner die than stain 

One so fond as she has proved me, 

With the hollow world's disdain : 
False one, go — my doom is spoken, 
And the spell that bound me broken !" 

A few moments after his departure 
she, or rather her body, was married 
to Bucklow. If the union of willing 
hearts alone is sealed and recorded in 
the high chancery of heaven, as truly 
wedded, this unnatural union was not 
sealed and recorded. Could we believe 
it possible that such van union could be 
sanctioned there, we would fain believe 
the tears of the Recording Angel would 
blot it out forever. Not many minutes 
after Bucklow retired to the bridal cham- 
ber, where Lucy was, there was heard 
a dreadful shriek as of one in the very 
agonies of death. The company burst 
into the room, and there found Buck- 
low weltering in his blood, and up in 
the chimney they found poor Lucy in a 
state of wild delirium and proud des- 
pair; and as they carried her from this 
bloody chamber she cast that dreadful 


look and uttered that terrible exclama- 
tion which' we spoke of in the beginning 
of the story. So soon, however, as she 
discovered that the blue ribbon that 
bound her to life was severed and 
gone, she expired without a tear, 
without a sigh, or without a murmur. 
Just as the fading symptom of this lu- 
cid interval passed from her pale face 
the beholder might have read on it the 
sentiment of these lines to the giver of 
that highly prized pledge of his affec- 
tion — 

" Love's golden chain and burning vow, 
Are broken — but I love thee still." 

Nor did the Master long survive her ' 
for as he went forth to the field of sin- 
gle combat in which he was to meet 
Col. Ashton, Lucy's mean and contemp- 
tible brother, he suddenly and strange- 
ly disappeared in a deep quicksand. — 
Thus the damned tragedy went on and 
thus it wound up. Them, who might 
have lived long and happily, Sir Wal- 
ter, to paint his tale with a moral, 
made, through the instrumentality of a 
mean, vain and proud mother, to die 
early and wretchedly. 

The moral of the story the reader 
has no doubt anticipated. The Novel- 
ist would have it understood, as we 
take it, that the opposition of Lucy's 
mother arose not from a fear that Ed- 
gar Ravenswood would not make a 
good, kind, worthy and respectable hus- 
band, but because she thought that her 
daughter ought to marry some one of 
higher rank and larger estate than the 
son of a pennyless and heart-broken 
lord. Edgar, 'tis true, had nothing but 
his own noble and proud self to of- 
fer to Lucy — and this in the estima- 

tion of her mother, was worthless and 
disgraceful to such a lordly family as 
Sir William's. The inference, which 
we draw from the story, is that the op- 
position of parents on such grounds is 
wrong, cruel, shameful and inexcusable 
in the sight of man and of heaven. If 
the young man, who would wed your 
daughter, is idle, moneyless through 
extravagance and bad management, 
destitute of self-respect, integrity and 
honor, or addicted to all manner of dis- 
sipation, then you are not to be blam- 
ed because you show violent and stub- 
born opposition; for then you show the 
right kind of respect for yourselves and 
the right kind of parental affection for 
your child. But if she set her affection 
on a poor but respectable and industri- 
ous man, cross her not, trifle not with 
her affections, lest, in quenching the 
fires of love, you put out forever the 
lamp of her existence. 

Every one, who has studied the his- 
tory of woman's affection through out 
the past ages of mankind, has found 
that her heart, for the most part, is 
precisely like the lithographer's stone, 
and that as Thackery has said, " what 
is once written upon it, can't be rubbed 
out." Let a woman, who has a mil- 
lion, once fix her affections upon a 
plough boy and all the persuasion and 
scolding, which the ingenuity, spleen 
and pride of a mother can bring to 
bear, will not elevate her thoughts 
above hay-rakes and weediug-hoes, 
meadows and cornfields, gardens and 
rural scenes. 'Twill rather inflame 
her love. Indeed 

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow 
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 



If a girl, thus circumstanced, did not 
run off, her parents might force her to 
give up her loved suitor and to tie her- 
self to a man of their' own liking, but 
they could not bring back her heart 
from the bosom of the poor and simple 
hearted swain, and, in tearing him from 
her innocent and devoted bosom, they 
might so mutilate her affections that 
the bloom of life on her cheek would 
fade and the bright intelligence of her 
mind be obscured. To such parents as 
would force a daughter from the mar- 
riage of a respectable but indigent 
man to a cold, indiferent and unde- 
sired, ay, hated union with a man 
of letters, or a man of pleasure, for no 
better reasons than could be assign- 
ed in this case, we would say, beware 
lest there should one day fall upon your 
ears the terrible exclamation, " So, you 
have ta'en up your bonny bridegroom." 

Then again parents, who as to their 
standing and wealth are at about an 
honorable betweenity — say half-poor 
and half- rich — not seldom take up the 
notion that their daughters must not 
marry their equals in rank and fortune 
but must look up to something higher 
and better — to rich, lettered, or titled 
men. Should one of these damsels 
chance to become enamored of some one 
who is on equal-footing in every respect 
with herself, they would be shocked at 
the thought of such a trifling marriage. 
Suppose, by preventing her from marry- 
ing, time after time, simply because they 
do not think the man rich enough and 
because they wish her to do better, they 
cause her day of grace to glide by. To 
such parents we would say, that though 
no such fearful exclamation as " so you 
have ta'en up your bonny bridegroom," 
may fall upon your ears, yet you will be 

continually and justly mortified by the 
unamiable presence of an old, lean, 
cross, heartless, sour, hapless and hope- 
less maid, who is fit to be in company 
with no others than sour and sullen 

Parents, who are proud of their high 
and noble extraction and who are puff- 
ed up by reason of the wealth that sur- 
rounds them, not unfrequently bargain 
their daughter to some rich and lordly 
suitor before she has reached the age 
of discretion, and whom she afterwards 
finds she cannot love ; and though she 
may afterwards innocently, affectionate- 
ly and fondly give her heart to anoth- 
er of humbler pretensions but of more 
enticing manners and equal promise in 
the race of honorable ambition, they 
tell her flatly and imperatively that 
they will not suffer her thus to degrade 
herself and also to bring stains and re- 
proaches upon their own time-honored 
reputation. Though she, like the faith- 
ful mistress of the patriotic Emmet, tell 
this young man, who is the choice of 
her parents, that her heart is another's 
and that she can never love him, though 
she tell her parents that they are throw- 
ing a damper upon her brightest pros- 
pects in life and bringing a blight upon 
her fondest hopes of happiness on 
earth, yet both parents and suitor press 
the matter on with the stupidity of don- 
kies and with the coldness of stoics, un- 
til the heartless and almost lifeless body 
of this tender child and daughter is 
united to that of this unloved man by 
the most lasting of all earthly ties. To 
such parents, we would say, beware 
lest there should one day fall upon 
your ears the dreadful exclamation, 





Breathes there a man with soul so dead, , 

Who never to himself hath said 

This is my own, my native land ? Scott. 

Hail, Carolina ! native land, 

Land of the brave and free, 
Where first a bold and patriot band 

Cradled young Liberty. 

I love thee still — those mighty hills 

I never may see more ; 
Thy rolling rivers, rocky rills 

And sandy, sea-girt shore. 

I love thy broad Savannas green 
Gem'd o'er with myriad flow'rs 

Like starlight beauties sweetly seen 
Amidst Spring's laughing hours. 

I love thy waving forest pines, 
Where weird wind-spirts dwell, 

And blend their notes of wild sublime 
With Ocean's murm'ring shell. 

For 'twas amidst such scenes as these 

My infant home was nurst; 
I sported 'neath those old pine trees 

And heard their music first. 

What though in sunnier climes I roam, 

By Mississippi's tide, 
And find a nobler, prouder home 

Than by Pamlico s side. 

Yet not so dear those orange bow'rs 
These prairies, broad and grand, 

These snowy white magnolia flow'rs 
That scent the breezes bland: 

Not half so dear these fertile fields 

Upheld by Africs toil, 
Nor naif so sweet a joy this yields, 

As thy unyielding soil. 

Thy very faults are dearer far 

Than all these boasted lands ; 
Thy sterile sod beside the Tar ! 

Thy Bimcomle's very sand3 1 

Thy Dismal Swamp — Mat'muskeet Lakes, 

Broad Pungo's stormy tides; 
And Chowan which 'neath tangled brakes, 

And piney forests, glides. 

There 's not of thy dear soil, one foot, 
Though glittering sands there be, 

But my fond heart lifts strongly up, 
And proudly beats for thee. 

Aye, Ignorance my set her seal, 

Upon thy manhood's brow ; 
But some are stupid still I feel, 

And ignorant as thou. 

And gifted too thy sons as well 
As many boasting more ; 

Ah ! thou wouldst olush thy deeds to tell, 
In egotistic lore. 

Lo! Honoi! with thy burnished speer, 

Triumphant still preside ; 
Be thine no hroken faith I ween 

To mar thy modest pride. 

And thy escutcheon, Honor hail ! 

Still be thy heraldry ; 
And 'till yon orient star shall fail, 

Then fail the truth in thee. 

Ah ! what would I not give to roam, 

Amidst thy sylvan scenes ; 
To see once more my childhood's home, 

And dream those childhood dreams. 

And old companions once more press 

To this wild, panting heart, 
And once again those old pines bless, 

Ere we forever part. 

Where e'er I roam, whatever seas* 

I plant my flag upon, 
Still fluttering in the friendly breeze 

It kindly points to Home. 

Home, home ! that treasured word 

Let me again retrace, 
And each familiar scene record, 

And greet each smiling face. 

For 'twas upon thy sacred sod, 

Beneath the moaning pines, 
My infant heart first bowed to God, 

And hymn'd her tuneful lines. 

True, many press the witty jest, 
As round the board they stand, 

And vaunting boast a nobler crest 
For their own fatherland. 

Then let them weave the mirthful song, 

And lift the wine cup high ; 
And laughtered tales Against thee prolong, 

Till every cup is dry. 

Fill high ! fill high ! my chalice mate 

In rich old scuppernong ; 
I'll drain it to the Old North State, 

Carolina ! right or wrong. 

Then — here is to my native hill, 

Home of the brave and free ; 
And be my very pulses still, 

Ere they beat not for thee. 

Jackson, Mississippi. 




Conversation Enriches the Mind. — 
The custom of opening our editorials with 
a detailed account of the present condi- 
tion, future prospects, and manifest desti- 
ny of our little Magazine has become so 
prevalent that it seems almost a second 
nature with us. Since our fears about its 
success and our anxieties concerning its 
continuance have become somewhat calm- 
ed, pardon us reader, if we dare occasion- 
ally to depart from the time-honored and 
much-persecuted custom, and endeavor to 
force upon your " auricular appendages,'' 
the quaint but true remark : " Variety is 
the spice of life," and also of opening edi- 
torials. We flatter ourselves that we can 
innovate with impunity this sacred 
and hereditary custom, and that it 
is not essentially necessary for the con- 
tinuance of our Magazine that we should 
goad your memories with monthly repeti- 
tions of the fact that there is such an in- 
significant periodical as ours living, and, 
we hope, prospering, in the State of North 
Carolina, and to inform you of the appall- 
ing truth that it is bound to die unless 
you support It by both pecuniary and 
material aid. No. We trust that it oc- 
cupies so firm a place in the hearts of our 
people though the tongue of the slanderer 
defame it, it cannot uproot it ; though the 
machinations of the envious encircle it 
they cannot subvert it. Let it be one of 
the most spotless spots, if a spot, on the 
unspotted escutcheon of the Old North 

Judge not, reader, that it is our pur- 
pose to wage a holy crusade against the 
conversation of College, and that we will 

invoke the inspiration divine to assist us 
in effecting our object. We intend mere- 
ly to glance hastily at the present mode 
of conversing among us. Man is so con- 
stituted that companions are almost es- 
sentially necessary for his very existence 
— that is, he must have some person to 
talk with — and young men especially are 
peculiarly fond of having persons to talk 
with, perticularly of the feminine gender. 
But here we are not profusely blessed 
with fair young ladies to lend their smiles 
in rendering more enchanting and fasci- 
nating the natural beauties of this place, 
so we have to content ourselves in a de- 
gree by conversing among ourselves — this 
rather disagreeable, but "All's well that 
ends well." 

Among a large collection of young men 
and boys, where woman's radiant counte- 
nance is not present to place a bridle upon 
the tongue, the morality of conversation 
is very apt to be held in a very low esti- 
mation — boys are prone to descend to vul- 
garity. Now, this is a lamentable fact 
and ought to be guarded against. It is a 
well known truth, that not only here, but 
everywhere, when boys assemble to con- 
verse, the confab invariably closes with 
something by no means becoming. There 
is a Chinese proverb, and a very true one, 
which says, a single conversation across 
the table with a wise man is better than 
ten years mere study of books. Since 
conversation is of such momentous value, 
let your's be wise, elevated, chaste, and re- 



" Speak gently ! 'Tis a little thing 
Dropp'd in the heart's deep well ; 

The good, the joy which it may bring 
Eternity shall tell." - 

There is, not only among the students 
hut among some others connected with 
College, a mania for making puns and 
what are called keen remarks. It is said 
that puns are'the lowest kind of wit (except 
when made by Mr. Saxe and ourselves) and 
as for keen remarks, we have heard some 
that had not edge enough to cut a rot — 
pumpkin. We are very fond of hearing 
good puns and keen-remarks, but we have 
of late heard such miserable ones that we 
despair of ever having our desire again 
gratified. A person ought to practice in 
privacy before appearing in public. So 
punsters and makers of keen remarks 
take advice. 

The article with which we introduce 
this number is from the pen ot the late 
Air. Hooper. Severance and admiration 
for the distinguished dead are sufficient 
incentives to induce a perusal. 

Revolutionary Government — Battle 
of Moore's Creek. — The First Continen- 
tal Congress met at Philadelphia on the 
5th September, 1774, and on the 20th Oc- 
tober adopted The Articles of Association, 
which formed the bond of union among 
the colonies, until they were superceded 
by the Articles of Confederation. Con- 
gress entered upon the consideration of 
the latter form of government on the llth 
June, 1776, the articles were agreed upon 
on the 15th November, 1777, but so great 
was the difficulty of harmonizing the dis- 
cordant views of the thirteen colonies that 
the confederacy was not completed until 
the first of March, 1781, when Maryland 
yielded her scruples, and became a mem- 
ber of the imperfect union, which existed 
during the eight succeeding years, and 
until the organization of the government 
under the constitution of the United 
States on the 4th March, 1789. 

The Revolution may be regarded as 
having regularly commenced with the as- 
sembly of the First Continental Congress, 
and as having been substantially effected 
under the Articles of Association, which 
formed the constitution of the Revolution- 
ary Government, and were in force from 
the 20th October, 1774, to the 1st March, 
1781, a period of six years and more than 
four months. The Articles of Associa- 
tion adopted by the Continental Congress 
led to the adoption of subordinate Asso- 
ciations in all the provinces, and the es- 
tablishment in North Carolina of District, 
County, and Town Committees to enforce 

The earliest Association formed in this 
State of which the records have come 
down to our times, was at Wilmington on 
the 23d November, 1774, where " at a 
meeting of the Freeholders in the Court 
House, for the purpose of choosing a Com- 
mittee for said town, to carry more effec- 
tually into execution the Resolves of the 
late Congress held at Philadelphia, the 
following names were proposed and uni- 
versally assented to : Cornelius Harnett, 
John Quince, Frs. Clayton, William Hoop- 
er, Robert Hogg, John Ancrum, Archi- 
bald McLain, John Robinson, James 
Walker." This was probably the earliest 
Association organized in the province, but 
the example was specially followed by the 
appointment of similar Committees in 
New-Berne, Edenton, Cumberland, Ro- 
wan, Mecklenburg, Tryon, Surry and 
elsewhere. Of all these Revolutionary 
Committees, the records of the Wilming- 
ton, Rowan, and Surry Committees only 
are accessible to us, and no others we 
suppose to be extant. The records of 
the Committee of Mecklenburg were des- 
troyed in the fire which consumed the 
house of the Clerk, John McNitt Alexan- 
der, on the first April, 1800, and hence 
the obscurity in which the Mecklenburg 
Declaration, was so long involved. No 
form of government has ever existed in 



North Carolina which received such uni- 
versal, cheerful and ardent support as the 
Articles of Association and no portion of 
our history is more interesting than the 
period which existed between their adop- 
tion and the formation of our State Con- 
stitution on the 18th December, 1776. 

William Hooper, Joseph Hewes and 
Richard Caswell, were the delegates from 
Nort i Carolina to the first Continental 
Congress, and their names were subscrib- 
ed to the Articles of Association. They 
were members of the second Congress 
which met on the 10th May, 1775. Cas- 
well, having been appointed Treasurer of 
the Southern Division, resigned his seat 
and was succeeded in the month of Sep- 
tember, by John Penn. These four gen- 
tlemen were the only delegates to Con- 
gress previous to the organization of our 
State Government. They maintained a 
regular correspondence, with the provin- 
cial authorities, and some very interesting 
letters, which have never been printed, 
may now be found among the public ar- 

The following letter from Hooper 
Hewes and Penn, to the Council of Safe- 
ty, contains a clearer and fuller account 
of the preparations made by the British 
Government, for the first invasion of 
North Carolina, than we have met with 
in any other single contemporaneous ac- 
count. It was written just a fortnight 
before the plan of the campaign, so skil- 
fully arranged by Governor Martin, was 
so entirely frustrated by the Battle of 
Moore's Creek. 

Philadelphia, February 13, 1776. 
Hon'ble Gentlemen : — We received informa- 
tion from General Washington, about ten days 
ago, that the Mercury Ship of War and sever- 
al transports with Governor Clinton and a num- 
ber of soldiers on board have sailed out of 
Boston harbor, and that he was informed they 
were bound to New- York. In consequence of 
this intelligence, he had sent off General Lee 
to take the command of such forces as could be 
immediately marched into the city for its de- 

fence. General Clinton arrived before the town 
in the man of war, on the same day that Gen- 
eral Lee marched into it. We are this day in- 
formed that one of the transports full of soldiers 
has got into the harbour. It seems to be doubt- 
ful whether Clinton intended to land in New 
York, had he arrived there in time. Some 
think he is to proceed to the Southward. His 
going there has occasioned much speculation. 
It is generally believed by those who get the 
best information, and we have not the least 
doubt about the fact, that he is on his way to 
North Carolina, and that he called at New York, 
to confer and advise with Governor Tryon, re- 
specting the situation of our colony, the num- 
ber and temper of the people, and in what man- 
ner he might attack them with a probability of 
success. The particulars as far as we have been 
able to obtain information of them, are these. 
That seven regiments were to embark from 
Great Britain about the first of December and 
proceed to Hampton Roads in Virginia, there 
to wait till General Clinton joins them with the 
troops from Boston, with the plan of operations 
with Lord Dunmore and proceed to make in- 
cursions into North Carolina and the adjacent 
colonies in such places and manner as best suit 
their purposes by dividing their forces. We 
thought it absolutely necessary that you should 
be informed of these matters, that your best 
efforts may be exerted to defeat the purposes 
of them. Should Governor Martin, supported 
by a body of these troops, introduce himself 
amongst the Highlanders and Regulators, the 
consequences might prove fatal to our colony. 

We recommend it to your consideration 
whether it will not be prudent to call a meeting 
of your Congress, early in April, or sooner if it 
can be done with propriety ; will it not be pro- 
per to appoint several general officers to com- 
mand the militia in case large bodies should fee 
called forth ? Seven Regiments of 680 men 
each, with the accession of .tories and perhaps 
negroes, will be a formidable force, and will re- 
quire your greatest abilities to oppose it. You 
will see by Lord North's motion in Parliament 
on the 20th November, what the colonies have 
to expect from that quarter. We earnestly 
hope our colony will stand firm and oppose the 
tyranny of that corrupt Parliament to the last 

We wrote to you three days ago when we ex- 
pected to have sent off the wagon, but meeting 
with a disappointment in the powder (that in the 
Magazine being all common powder, very 
coarse and ordinary) we judged it improper to 



send any till the best kind can be got. We are 
obliged to detain the wagon a few days till a 
vessel, arrived in the river (with sixty tons of 
Saltpetre, thirteen tons of powder and 1,300 
arms) gets up to town. A copy of that letter 
with sundry papers therein referred to, are now 
enclosed. "We should be glad to know the time 
you fix upon for the meeting of your Congress, 
and are with the utmost respect, 
Honorable gentlemen, 
Your most obedient and 
Very humble servants, 


The Hon'ble Cornelius Harnett, Esq., and other 
members of the Council of Safety of North 

We are ever glad to receive letters from 
the ladies, if of no other kind than those 
of friendship ; we would most assuredly 
prefer them to be of a different nature, but 
are rather afraid they would produce the 
same effect as the- apple thrown by Dis- 
cord did, in olden times, and we would 
have to settle it in the modern manner by 
ordering coffee, &c, for six at six in the 
morning. We are rejoiced that the ladies 
have finally formed a favorable opinion of 
us (although one young lady said some 
mighty hard icords about one of us) for 
we no longer entertain fears of the pre- 
mature death of our Magazine. We have 
laid it down as a maxim with us, as the 
ladies are, so are, or eventually will be, 
the men ; they use such gentle, persua- 
sive means that they lead men unconsci- 
ously wherever they please as easily as 
the wind bends the fragile reed. We 
know some, and perhaps all, the married 
ladies will say this isn't so ; but we say it 
is, and if they want proof we can bring it 

To our fair correspondent we say, al- 
though we have not seen you, yet we like 
you — that is, we like your letter, and if 
we were to have the honor of seeing you 
there is no telling what we would'nt do. 
So let us insist on your attending our 

next Commencement — we promise you a 

plenty of fun and a , if you will 

choose one of us; if not, there are about 
three hundred almost as acceptable as we, 
but we would rather you would be more 
limited in the number from which you se- 
lect the fortunate, &c. Don't understand 
us as expressing any doubts of our suc- 
superiority. Do come. Don't neg- 
lect to compliment us again soon by a let- 
ter or something else. 

For ladies one and all we have a word : 
The Magazine was established equally as 
much for the cultivation of Literature 
among the ladies as among the men, and 
nothing conceivable would honor more 
both the State and the Magazine than ar- 
ticles from the pens of the fair and gifted 
daughters ef Old North Carolina. 

Dear Messes. Editors : I like you. At least 
I like your Magazine which comes to the same 
thing. You don't know anything about me. — 
No I won't I say that either ; some of you may 
have seen me, but if you have, I don't intend 
you shall recognize me, for I have a whim to 
write under a fictitious name, so that not even 
my own family shall be in the secret, much less 

you who have only will, you who know 

nothing about me except what I choose to tell 
you. I'm not much of a writer. My corres- 
pondents might contradict this assertion, for I 
usually write unconscionably long letters, so 
my friends tell me, all except those who read 
them, and whether they mean to flatter me or 
not I don't know, but they always say their on- 
ly fault is that there is not enough of them, 
" interesting but too short," &c, be that as it 
may, when I just now said I was not much of a 
writer. I meant to inform you that I am alto- 
gether unaccustomed to writing for Magazines 
and such like — this being to confess the truth, 
my maiden effort, I've been thinking for some- 
time I'd like to write for the University Maga- 
zine, because I believe in encouraging home 
talent, and I wouldn't for any- consideration, 
that the brilliant corruscations of ,my budding 
genius should illuminate the pages of any peri- 
odical out of " my own, my native State;" but 
I'm sadly afraid I shan't be able to make out 
anything worthy of publication after all. Well 
I'll do my best at any rate, and if you don't 
think my productions deserve a corner in your 



paper you can just throw them under the table, 
having sustained only the slight loss of the few 
minutes it will take to glance over them. 

A late writer in Harper's Magazine says : "If 
-you put down on paper what you think, and as 
you think it, somebody if not most folks will 
agree with you, and wonder why they hadn't 
thought about writing themselves — when after 
all there's no writing about it." Now that 's 
exactly what I wan't to do. I wan't to put down 
on paper just whatever I think on any subject, 
which may happen to strike me particularly — 
to be a little bit of Fanny Fern in my way (oh 
the vanity of woman !) Not that I intend to 
ape that lady's style, expressions and various 
other prettinesses, as Ellen Louise of " The Il- 
lustrated Family Friend " did ; for I do assure 
you if I had any idea I should make myself as 
intensely ridiculous as that same Ellen Louise — 
' bah ! the very name is enough to sicken one — 
I would scatter the ashes of this sheet of paper 
(having first burnt it) to the four winds of heav- 
en, and throw inkstand, ink and pen into — their 
accustomed places in my desk. I do hope how- 
ever I shan't ever arrive at that pitch of absur- 
dity — nous verrons ! 

Now gentlemen don't you want to know some- 
thing about me — my age, height, color of my 
eyes and hair, whereabouts I live, &c? If 

you don't, it don't make any diff that is — 

well I hope you do. 

My age first. I'm a little more than 12, and 
a little less than 24 years old. I might say a little 
less than 20, and 't would be the truth too, but 
then I know you would shake your wise heads 
and say, " This won't do at all, that girl is en- 
tirely too young to write for the North Carolina 
University Magazine /" But dear Messrs. Edi- 
tors could you be so ungenerous as to throw up 
a lady's age, or rather youth, at her in that fash- 
ion ? I couldn't be made to believe it — or that 
you would allow so trivial a circumstance 
to influence your decision of the merit or de- 
merit of my poor contributions, so I tell you 
candidly it will thunder a good many times be- 
tween this and my 20th birthday. So much for 
my age, and that important matter exactly set- 
tled, I proceed I don't know exactly how many 
feet and inches would give you the right idea of 
my height, but I very often say to myself and 
sometimes to my friends in reference to my size, 
"In a little lump of sugar how much of sweet- 
ness hideth." I know gentlemen of your pene- 
tration can easily understand from this, that I 
am as the novels have it, "a little below the 
medium size." 

I shan't tell you what color my eyes and 
hair are, only it has been said to me of the for- 
mer, " Mild as heaven's own blue it beameth " 
&c, and of the latter, "In his heart he prefer- 
red the least ringlet that curled," &c, but that's 
not telling the color however. 

Now about my place of residence. I live in 
a quiet village, where but little more than "the 
softened echo of the world " reaches us. My 

own home, if you remem if you could see 

it I mean, would remind you" of the " cot in 
the valley I love," "humble but happy." Our 
little village is secluded, and partakes a little 
of the Rip Van Winkle spirit which has been 
laid to the charge of our dear old State, (" Heav- 
en's blessings attend her!") but I think our 
quiet folks are rousing up a little and are com- 
ing up in a measure with the " goaheadiveness" 
of the age . 

I am quite appalled on looking back upon 
what I have written, to see how much of my 
sheet has been devoted to " ma petite moime- 
me," especially as I candidly detest the "ego- 
met ipse " style in conversation, letters, books 
and— magazines. However, it is always hard 
to make a start at any thing : " Ce n'est que le 
premier pas qui coute " you know, and I may 
improve. " Happy in this / am not yet so old 
but /may learn; and happier than this"— I 
won't go any farther. 

I think I have chatted enough, considering 
it is the first lime I ever had the honor of ad- 
dressing you, and must begin to think about 
taking my leave for the present. If I like the 
reception I meet with on this my first visit to 
you I may probably repeat the experiment. I 
should like to borrow the coiffure which made 
Jack the Giant-killer invisible, and pay you a 
visit in propria persona while you are reading 
what I have written — however if you should 
criticise very mercilessly I might repeat my 
ill-advised wish. I think I must be a brave 
girl to risk submitting my green attempts to 
the eyes of six seniors— oh, I mus'nt think 
about it or my courage will certainly fail me, 
and I've just got it screwed up to the sticking 
point. With a desperate effort I say good-bye ! 

M. I . 

Col. Pickett, the Historian and na- 
tive North Carolinian. — In looking over 
the Advertiser and Gazette, published in 
Montgomery, Ala., we observed the fol- 
lowing just and complimentary notice of 
Col. Albert J. Pickett's History of Ala- 



Pickett's History of Alabama Abeoad. — 
Mr. Walsh, the Paris correspondent of the 
Journal of Commerce, says that the "History of 
Alabama," is very favorably noticed in the 
French Aiheneum, of [the 7th inst. This an- 
nouncement, by so distinguished a writer as 
Mr. Walsh, giving the opinion of a periodical 
so excellent for its taste and extensive circula- 
tion in Europe, should be very gratifying, not 
only to Col. Pickett, our townsman, but to eve- 
ry citizen of Alabama. 

If the first book of an author has received an 
approval so universal, not only from our whole 
Southern community, but at the North and in 
several parts of Europe, we can look forward 
with confidence to the success of his new work, 
the ' History of the South West,' which, we 
understand, is in a state of preparation." 

Col. Pickett was born in the county of 
Anson in this State. He is a son of the 
late Hon. William Raiford Pickett, and a 
brother of the late Hon. W. Dixon Pick- 
ett, formerly a Judge of Alabama and a 
graduate of this Institution. He is just 
in the very prime of life, being only forty- 
three years of age, and, as was stated 
above, is now engaged in writing a histo- 
ry of the South West, a portion of our 
Union rich in scenes and events of thrill- 
ing interest and momentous importance 
His feilow-citizens, at one time, earnestly 
solicited him to enter the political arena ; 
but his taste, his inclination and private 
business lea him to reject political promo- 
tion and to turn aside into the field of 
polite and elegant literature, and he is 
now employing his time and talents in a 
branch of literature, which will win him 
a desirable and permanent fame, and 
which will interest the intelligent people 
of his adopted State, and of the whole 
world more highly than any humorous 
stories of border-life, or splendid tales of 
fiction ; for 

" The classic days, those mothers of romance, 
That roused a nation for a woman's glance, 
The age of mystery with its hoaded power, 
That girt the tyrant in his stori'd tower, 
Have past and faded like a dream of youth, 
And riper eras ask for History's Truth." 

In the announcement of College officers 
in our last issue, we regret the faux pas 
occas'oned by the omission ot Mr. E. H. 
Plummer's name as Ball-Manager. We 
sincerely hope the gentleman will pardon 
us, as it was an unintentional over-sight. 

Married in the city of Kaleigh, on the 7th 
of March, by Eev. Dr. Mason, Wm. W. Holden, 
Editor of the North Carolina Standard, to Miss 
Louisa V. daughter of the late Robert Harrison. 

We, or at least one of us, were present 
on the above occasion, and never spent a 
more pleasant evening. The Editor of 
the Standard really looked handsome, but 
was eycused, as this was a particular oc- 
casion. We have been informed since 
that he conld have looked better if he had 
tried, but he did not try. 

The ceremonies passed off very pleas- 
antly indeed. There was a large collec- 
tion of ladies; very pleasant ones too, 
judging from the manner in which the 
gentlemen appeared to be entertained. 
And what seemed to be (will the ladies 
excuse?) equally entertaining was the 
richly laden table, which was a perfect 
star in a dietetic point of view, and other 
et ceteras. 

May happiness attend Mr. Holden and 
his happy bride, and may the Standard 
meet with the success its new form mer- 

It is with pleasure we have heard of 
the election of our friend and class-mate, 
Joseph P. Jones, as Colonel Commandant 
of the 53d Eegiment of North Carolina 


A Kiss from a Lady is Rejected. — 
We are so modest as never to accept a hiss 
unless delivered in persona and individu- 
ally. ' 

Legs is again welcomed to our sanctum, 
but we are sorry the Magazine will not 
as yet consent to acknowledge his visit. 



Lees, 'tis strange, yes passing strange, 
that in this age of progress, this age of 
K go-aheadiveness," a man of your un- 
questioned talent and strong judgment 
should select subjects, which went out of 
date almost before the flood, upon which 
to place the impress of your genius. Re- 
member it requires a master-pen to adorn 
hackneyed subjects in new and attractive 
garbs, and even then, it is almost an im- 
possibility. You have the ability but not 
the experience and age. You Bay, "As 
for ourself, when we would settle down 
for life, we ask an educated, refined and 
intellectual young lady as a companion ; 
one whom we might with safety consult 
on every business, one who would be a 
companion and a teacher that we might 

tread with life's thorny paths in happiness 
and peace." Now we are afraid that, by 
publishing your article, we might injure 
your prospects of getting even an old lady 
with whom " to tread life's thorny paths," 
and that, you know, might be a thorn in 
your side which would perhaps carry you 
to a premature grave. So Lees take a 
more " progressive " subject and we will 
always be glad to hear from you. 

Our contributions have of late been 
more numerous than usual. A writing 
mania has seized the Juniors, why we 
know not — something undoubtedly is ra- 
pidly approaching and will soon happen. 
We'll be glad to hear from any and all, 
the ladies especially. 



Vol. III. 

MAY, 1854, 

No. 4. 




From the 24th. to the 29th Decem- 
ber, a period of great excitement and 
earnest discussion on all points relating 
to the invasion, this subject, (the sus- 
pected passes) had its full share. Dur- 
ing the whole of these five days, Col. 
Walton, voluble and diffuse on every 
other topic, maintained on this alone, 
an unaccountable reserve. 

At length the spell was broken — a 
communication was made although at 
" the eleventh hour." 

I will give it in his own words as 
quoted from his testimony : 

" Being ignorant of what was really 
intended to be done, and tired of the 
suspense in which I had so long re- 
mained, — some time in the forenoon, I 
took Colonels Preston and Martin who 
had engaged to act with me that day, 
down upon the bluff, upon the left of 
the army, with a view to observe the 
motions of the enemy, who began to 
make some little parade on the rice 
field, as though an attempt was design- 
ed upon our left, by way of the fort. — 
Vol. III.— 31. 

I instantly formed the conjecture that 
it was a deception, and that they would 
attempt our right, by the way of the 
pass at Milledges old field, and I im- 
mediately determined to order the mi- 
litia that way, and mentioned it to 
them and said I would then go to Gen. 
Howe, let him know what I had done 
and my fears of the designs of the ene- 
my. I presently found the General at 
the right of the army and immediately 
asked him if he was not afraid that the 
light troops of the .enemy would get 
round upon our right. He told he was 
not, for that he had fortified the only 
pass below Tatnal's house. I asked 
him where the work was, and he point- 
ed to the place. I told him that the 
enemy would not attempt to cross the 
swamp there ; that there was a very 
easy dry pass lower down and more 
convenient to the enemy. 

He said I was surely mistaken, and 
desired me to look at the work he had 
caused to be thrown up. I rode down, 
examined it and returned to the Gene- 



ral and repeated what I had first said ; 
and seeing that he was confident that 
the work had been thrown up at the 
proper place, the more certainly to con- 
vince him, I made use of the following 
expressions, or words to the like pur- 
pose—General, in order that you may 
be convinced that what I say to you 
is true, I assert to you upon my 
honor, that before the war I have fre- 
quently crossed the pass — I mean in a 
chair with young ladies picking jessa- 
mines. This had the deserved effect. 
He appeared convinced, and asked me 
where my regiment was ; I told him I 
had moved it to the right. He thank- 
ed me and told me to go and recon- 
noitre the pass I had mentioned. I in- 
stantly went off and as I entered the 
swamp along the pass, I perceived the 
British light infantry stepping over the 
little difficulties in their way with great 
facility. I was perceived, but not fired 
at. Foreseeing that the enemy would 
soon be round, I rode full speed round 
with the intelligence to the ground, 
where the militia and horse were sta- 
tioned, and sent word to Gen. Howe, 
and followed immediately myself and 
reported the enemy were in force, on 
our right. I was ordered to the mili- 
tia in front of which at the distance of 
70 or 80 yards, the enemy formed the 
line of two deep in numbers as appear- 
ed about 350."* 

Thus it is evident that Walton failed 
in the object for which Howe ordered 
him to the pass, namely, to give notice 
by resistance at the outlet, that the 
enemy were succeeding in the right. 

* Col. Walton's testimony in Howe's trial. 

If it be „asked why Howe who disap- 
proved of Walton should appoint him 
to the command which had previously 
been assigned to Marbury, who enjoy- 
ed his respect. I answer, that Walton 
was the only person acquainted with 
the pass. Policy therefore, dictated, 
and necessity enforced the measure, 
and a like policy, and a like necessity 
pointed out, immediately after the 
course of stationing an officer to over- 
look Walton. It was with such views 
that when the enemy appeared in sight 
he requested Marbury to go up and re- 
main on the right between, and to have 
an eye on the breast-work and the mi- 

The intention was, not that Marbury 
should supersede Walton, but that he 
should counsel and persuade him to do 
his duty, and if he could not effect this 
purpose to urge him to retreat imme- 

Marbury was well fitted for this du- 
ty. He went up to Walton's command 
and found him with about 90 militia 
and a field piece, posted at the back of 
the new barracks. 

About 3 o'clock, the enemy emerg- 
ed from the swamp, and shortly after 
formed on an eminence that the mili- 
tia had occupied a little before and 
which Walton made an effort to regain, 
but was too late. 

When Marbury was first sent to 
counsel Walton the militia were posted 
on this eminence which was near a 
branch, and at some distance from the 
barracks. When he went the second 
time they were between the eminence 
and the barracks. The branch men- 
tioned was that nearest the town and 
which the enemy were crossing when 



Col. Mcintosh gave the alarm. The 
place they crossed was some little dis- 
tance below the path-way ; probably 
100 or 150 yards. 

The militia seemed to be in confu- 
sion when Marbury arrived, and could 
not be reduced to order. Although 
Walton prevailed on them to advance 
and give three cheers, they were still 
in confusion. Walton then requested 
Marbury to ride to Gen. Howe and in- 
form him of his situation and apply for 
support, which he agreed to do. 

The occasion now created a seconda- 
ry object in the mind of Howe, that of 
skirmishing with the light infanty for 
the purpose of covering the retreat. — 
With this view he ordered Ternant to 
join the militia intended as a security 
to his right, and post them in such 
manner as best to answer that object. 
Ternant hastened to the pass ; — just 
such a man as should be selected to 
overrule Walton. He could not from 
bis position as Inspector General of the 
army have been spared sooner. There 
was, it would seem, a sternness in his 
deportment that indicated inflexibility 
and an hauteur not inappropriate, in a 
soldier of rank, that might have been 
traced te a consciousness of profession- 
al merit. Intent upon his duty, he took 
the command of the militia, without 
exchanging a word with Walton, nor 
did he converse at all with him during 
the military operations at the pass. In 
brief, then he attempted every thing 
that skill and bravery could hope to 
accomplish, but it was too late, when 
he reached the pass, to avert the con- 
sequences of Walton's inaction at the 
critical moment, when the enemy were 
first discovered making their way by 

irregular approaches (for they could do 
so by no other mode) towards the out- 
let from 1jie swamp. The militia fled 
a few. of them turned and fired in their 

Had this inaction of Walton's been 
designed which certainly was not the 
case — the time could not have been 
calculated with more nice precision to 
bring about the conjuncture which 
eventuated in the dispersion of the mi- 

Ternant having spiked the field piece 
galloped off to the retreating continen- 
tals, and, Marbury having returned with 
orders from Howe, finding the field in 
possession of the British went off at full 
speed to overtake and rally the flying 

Howe for the last hour had been pre- 
paring for this crisis : — the enemy's get- 
ting his rear. Yet the blow when it 
fell, came with unmitigated force. 

Disappointed of a rapid and brilliant 
campaign in Florida by the tardiness 
of the State authorities of South Caro- 
lina in furnishing supplies — and the 
obstinate stand taken against him by 
the faction which at that time ruled 
and distracted Georgia, and which ex- 
hibits to the attentive reader a striking 
contrast to the public spirit and inde- 
pendence which at the late portentous 
period so eminently distinguished that 
great " Empire State of the South " — 
factions I emphatically repeat, that 
were utterly incapable of appreciating 
his zeal in urging them to fortify their 
shores against invasion — disappointed 
now of a well devised plan which 
promised them a triumphant repulse of 
the enemy at Fair Lawn, and the pre- 
servation of the State of Georgia and 



her metropolis from British domination,! to take the nearest route on the flanks 
and the yet higher glory of resisting at of our army to Spring Hill. 

least until the arrival of re-inforcements 
an army of piekek veterans which more 
than quadrupled his own troops* — by 
an accident, the British commanders' 
meeting a negro who knew of a path- 
way through a dense swamp apparent- 
ly impervious and generally under wa- 
ter whjch let into the rear of the Ame- 
rican army — and lastly, exasperated by 
the malconduct of Walton in conceal- 
ing his knowledge of this pass, and his 
disobedience when ordered to take post 
at the outlet — instead of which, he took 
post eighty yards from it — and did not 
fire until Howe had commenced his re- 
treat, and the British infantry were 
forming on the pine barren. What 
must have been his feelings when his last 
measure, his last hope — a retreat with- 
out loss — became a dubious issue. 

All these reflections must have crowd- 
ed on his mind when Major Porter 
communicated to him the appalling 
fact, of which no signal had fore-warn- 
ed him — that the enemy had crossed 
the swamp. And yet perfect compo- 
sure and firmness were manifest in his 
countenance and manner on this occa- 
sion. Even the bitterness of enmity 
and ingratitude has recorded no angry 
nor impatient expression as having 
dropped from his lips. " As soon," says 
Major Porter, " as he heard the infor- 
mation that the enemy had # gained our 
right, he order a retreat, and sent me 
to take off a piquet, which was posted 
on our right and to direct the officer 

Between 3 and 4 o'clock in the after- 
noon of the 29th December, the army 
was ordered to retire in the following 
order : 

The South Carolina troops to retreat 
to Sprii g Hill, and there form and cov- 
er the retreat of the artillery and Geor- 
gia troops ; the latter to form somewhere 
about McGiloray's Path, and there re- 
main until joined by the former (the 

The army was formed across the 
road leading from Savannah to Girar- 
deau's, near half a mile from the town 
under the hill of easy ascent, in an open 
field with a ravine in front, Tatnal's 
buildings being more than 100 yards 
in the right of Gov. Wright's barn. — 
About the same distance on the left 
was a traverse across the road in the 
centre, with two field pieces on it, and 
a field piece advanced in front of each 

On the right was a swamp some dis- 
tance up, which, at the back of Tatnal's 
buildings a path led from Milledges to 
town. On this path a work was thrown 
up in which was posted a detachment 
of continental soldiers, and up the 
same swamp, the militia were post- 
ed. The left was in some degree cov- 
ered by a battery, which commanded 
part of alow ricefield not very accessible* 
The retreat which had new become 
extremely difficult,! was ordered im- 
mediately. The South Carolina troops 
forming the advance guard were dis- 

* Stedman says the British army amounted * Elbert's testimony 
$,500 men. f Elbert% 



posed into 16 platoons of 8 files each, 
was commanded by Col. Huger. 

The artillery under Major Roberts 
followed in the rear and occupied the 
centre. The Georgia troops were dis- 
posed into 8 platoons of 10 files each 
were commanded by Col. Elbert. The 
Georgia brigade was formed into close 
column by sections, by the left with the 
left in front. 

As soon as the artillery moved off, 
Elbert faced the column to the right 
about and retreated in ihat order. A 
field piece commanded by Capt. DeFoe, 
was stationed in the rear of the whole 
to cover the Georgia brigade*. Howe 
ordered the army to retreat in column 
as it shortened the line of march and 
threw the men more in the countenance 
of their officersf . 

The enemy were actively availing 
themselves of the opportunity afforded 
bv the commencement of the retreat to 
attack Howe on the right. They open- 
ed a brisk fire from their artillery on 
the Georgia brigade. 

The battalions of the 71st and of the 
Wellworth regiment of Hessians imme- 
diately advanced and discharged show- 
ers of musquetry on the right flank of 
the same brigade. The efficiency of 
Howe's precaution of flanking the brig- 
ade, was here strikingly maniestedj. 
The light infantry gave the British par- 
ties so warm a reception that the march 
of the brigade was not impeded. 

Howp.'s first act at the head of the 
retreating army was an order, written 
on horseback with a pencil, directing 

Major Lane to evacuate the fort at Sun- 
bury, wh:ch he despatched by Captain 

Marbury going to the General with 
an application from Walton, met him 
at the head of the South Carolinians, 
about halfway between Tatnal's and 
the town. Howe sent him back with 
orders to Waltonf to retreat immedi- 
ately. Major PorterJ who had been sent 
to take off a piquet, on the right, join- 
ed the army on the plain near the bury- 
ing ground. They were marching in 
column and were in perfectly good or- 
der. Howe was on the flanks of the 
South Carolina brigade, and was atten- 
tive to the troops. 

He rode down towards the rear of 
the Georgia troops, and ordered two 
platoons to be taken out of this brig- 
ade, as it was moving, in columns, to 
act as iiifantry on the flanks. As thej 
crossed the road the enemy's artillery 
which were 600 or 700 yards from 
their rear struck the centre column of 
the brigade aad did some damage ; not- 
withstanding which it preserved perfect 
order. Just as they gained the sum- 
mit of a hill about half a mile from the 
town, a heavy fire of musquetry was 
commenced towards their left, rnd the 
horse with the field piece in the rear 
went off at a gallop. 

The brigade moved on as quickly as 
they could, without getting into disor- 
der. Again the flankers repelled their 

Captain Turner and Major Grimki, 
aids to Gen. Howe in riding ahead of 

* Lieutenant Glasscock. 
f Howe's defence. 
J Major Lucas. 

* Captain Mosely. 
+ Colonel Marbury. 
% Major Porter. 



him, fell in with Col. Walton, who told 
them that the part of the militia that 
had been with him, had retreated to- 
wards Spring Hill defile and SkeftalPs 
tan -yard. 

Col. Walton had his thigh broken, 
by a shot from the enemy, and being 
faint was helped from his horse, but re- 
covered almost immediately from his 
swoon. Howe came up soon after. — 
Walton was then lying on the ground. 
The musket balls beginning to reach 
the place where he lay, he took the re- 
solution to go into town. Being lifted 
on his horse, he crossed the retreating 
columns and went to Yamacran. 

Howe as he passed from his station 
in the van down to the rear of the army 
bestowed commendations on all the 
troops, but in relation to the Georgia 
brigade he expressed himself with un- 
usual warmth. , 

It was not that their services were 
greater, nor that they had endured 
their privations and sufferings with more 
exemplary fortitude than their comrades 
of South Carolina, nor was it the fact, 
that in the recent exposure, they bore 
the brunt of the enemy's artillery and 
musquetry. It was a yet deeper feel 
ing of sympathy and solicitude, which 
arose from an apprehension that a se- 
verer destiny hung over them than that 
which awaited their fellow-soldiers. 

In passing up from the rear, he had 
witnessed their extraordinary firmness 
under the assaults of the enemy, and 
the perfect order they maintained. He 
tells us, that choosing a favorable point 
he reined up his horse and fixed his eyes 
upon the line until the whole had pass- 
ed ; and adds, wilh evident satisfaction 
that "better organized columns than 

these two brigades he had seldom or 
never seen, even on parade*. 

Praise is always acceptable, but that 
praise is most delightful, which flows 
from the lips of a superior, and the 
truth of which is attested by the re- 
sponses of the hearts of the soldiers 
themselves. Such praise is not only 
gratifying, but is often productive of 
results that are signally advantageous. 

Howe had learned from experience 
and still more from reading, what trivial 
circumstances in war sometimes decide 
the fate of armies, and how unavailing 
often, are all the expedients and pre- 
cautions of the most able commanders 
in averting calamities. 

Such, we may naturally suppose, was 
the vein of thought from which he was 
suddenly roused by intelligence that a 
party of British were seen coming down 
the Ogeechee road a considerable dis- 
tance beyond the barracks. On receiving 
this information he rode at full speed, up 
the line, to Col. Huger, who was at the 
head of the South Carolinians, and ob- 
serving that the body of British, though 
still at some distance, seemed to be 
pushing forward to occupy Spring Hill 
defile ; desired him to hasten to that 
post, to ascertain in what manner Major 
Wise — who had been ordered to defend 
the pass to the last man — had posted 
his party ; and if he (Huger) thought 
it requisite to re-inforce him and take 
the command.f 

In the mean time the artillery and 
the Georgia brigade which had thus 
far. kept together, proceeded on their 
march. About 100 yards before they 

* Howe's defence. 
+ Howe's defence. 



reached the southeastern extremity of 
the town, a body of the enemy advanc- 
ed to the east of the new barracks and 
commenced a heavy fire on the left 
flank of the brigade. 

The artillery and the Georgia brigade 
being in contiguity, the enemy's mus- 
quetry swept ever a part of the former. 
The driver of one of the field pieces and 
the horse he rode were shot. The ar- 
tillery nevertheless moved on. The 
corps, although on the ascent of a hill, 
managed to support the field piece un- 
til they reached the summit, when their 
Lieutenant* looking back for help from 
the Georgia brigade found to his sur- 
prise that it was not in sight. This 
was inexplicable to him at the time and 
as he could not obtain support for the 
piece he was compelled to abandon it 
The cause of the disappearance of the 
Georgia brigade, as afterwards ascer- 
tained was as follows : The commander 
Col. Elbert,f observing the South Caro- 
lina brigade, beyond the southwest end 
of the town in some disorder, pushing 
for Spring Hill, and a body of the ene- 
my near that place keeping up a brisk 
fire on them ; judged it too late in the 
evening for him to attempt that defile 
as the enemy must be in full possession, 
before he could possibly reach it. In 
this situation with the enemy in front, 
flank and rear, he formed the resolution 
of fighting his the Ogeechee 

road, where he observed the enemy's 
line to be weakest. 

In order to facilitate the execution of 
this design ha resolved to reduce the 
columns to files ; but aware of the ax- 

* Captain Budd. 
t Elbert's testimony. 

iomatic principle which prohibits a com- 
mander from attempting ""to make a 
change in the formation of his troops 
during actual combat, resorted to such 
precautions as he hoped ^ould" pre- 
vent miscarriage. With this view, ho 
ordered the flanking light infantry to 
advance and attack the enemy, who 
were near the column, in order to draw 
their fire, while he reduced the brigade, 
and to divert their attention from his 
main design. 

Immediately after the order to the 
light infantry, as the line advanced, he 
ordered an open column, as soon as h« 
saw there was a proper distance be- 
tween the sections ; which happened, 
just as the brigade reached the back of 
the burying ground. 

No more time was lost than was ne- 
cessary for the following words of com- 
mand. Halt. Sections, to the left, 
face, by files to the right wheel, march ! 

This halt and the movements which 
succeeded it, threw the brigade from 3 to 
400 paces behind the artillery.* Be- 
fore he got the rear quite clear of the 
burying ground, the lines which in col- 
umn had hitherto continued unshaken 
by the assaults of the enemy — in files 
shrunk under these attacks were broken 
and dispersed. The greater part fell 
up -one of the streets of Savannah, 
and rxius*. of these finally surrendered. 
The ren^air^er, about ninety-three in 
number, in attempting to cross the plain, 
in front of the light infantry under Sir 
James Baird, and were butchered in 
their flight. . 

I will not imitate those historians 
who on entering upon this passage of 

* Major Lucas' testimony. 



the retreat, shrink from the painful facts, 
. that challenge their scrutiny, and avert- 
ing their eyes, engage the attention of 
the reader by the display of trivial 
points, while they leave the main sub- 
ject in obscurity, though at the head of 
these writers is the great Edmund 

I will commence with the official let- 
» ter of the British commander and con- 
fine myself to his description of the 
proceedings on the plain which imme- 
diately followed upon the breaking of 
the Georgia line. It is in these words : 
" When the scattered troops of Carolina 
and Georgia ran across the plain,this offi- 
cer (Sir James Baird) with his usual gal- 
lantry, dashed his light infantry upon 
their flanks and terminated the with 
brilliant success. * * * * eigh- 
ty-three men were found dead upon the 
common and three wounded."* 

There is an important error in this 
statement, which has misled all our his- 
torians ; it is confounding the Carolina 
troops, with the Georgia brigade, when, 
in fact, the former were at this time, far 
ahead and out of sight of the latter. — 
This error has led historians into another 
still more gross ; that of representing a 
partial rout of the Georgia brigade, as a 
total rout of the whole of Howe's army. 
Even Marshall has fallen in this mistake. 
My narration, based principally on facts 
elicited in the course of Howe's trial, 
places the subject in its proper light, 

The next item to be noticed in the 
official letter is this sentence : " When 
the scattered troops, <kc, ran across the 
plain, 'Sir James Baird with his usual 

• Gentleman's Magazine for 1779. 

gallantry dashed the light infantry upon 
their flanks and terminated the day with 
brilliant success." Here the reader may 
remember that Sir James had under 
his command 700 men, and we are 
gravely informed that with this force ha 
attacked and destroyed 94 scattered fu- 
gitives, who were running across the 
plain. Was there ever a more ridicu- 
lous gasconade — leaving out of sight 
the atrocity of the massacre — or a more 
shameless profanation of the word "gal- 
lantry ?" As to the expression, dashed 
on their flanks, the idea is absurd. — 
Flank in a military sense, as is well 
known, applies to the side of a battal- . 
ion or other division, aud cannot be ap- 
plied to scattered fugitives. 

Now, with regard to the warm com- 
mendation bestowed by Campbell on 
Sir James Baird, I am astonished at the 
effiontery with which he sanctions by 
this approbation, these murderous deeds 
and attempts to veil them under the 
usages of war. From this commenda- 
tion it is evident that Sir James must 
have acted up to the letter and spirit of 
his orders, and those orders must have 
amounted substantially to this : " Ac- 
cept no surrender ! Give no quarter !" 

The day, says Campbell, was termi- 
nated with brilliant success. I assert 
thati t was terminated on the part of 
Campbell, with a cold-blooded massa- 
cre, executed by seven hundred men on 
ninety-four unresisting fugitives ! and 
on the part of Howe with a retreat, 
which would have reflected credit on the 
name of any commander of the revolu- 
tionary war — Washington excepted. 

As already stated the greater part of 
the Georgia brigade fell up one of the 
streets of Savannah. Some followed 



Elbert, who led them through a square 
the buildings on which had been lately 
burned down, and halted before the 
door of the Court House. Calling to 
Col. Harris who was second in com- 
mand — he asked him if he could re- 
commend any place through which he 
could effect a retreat. The Colonel re- 
plied that they might get over Mus- 
groves Creek. Elbert observed that it 
was full tide, and that the creek could 
not be passable. Harris rejoined that 
there was a log which he had gone over 
fifty times. Elbert exclaimed lead me 
to it. It is a happy circumstance, we 
will save our men. He then called out, 
follow me soldiers, and I will lead you 
to a safe retreat. Hearing the words, 
"follow the commander!" frequently 
repeated and apprehending that they 
might not know what he intended he 
continued to move slowly on with the 
few that yet preserved order, waving 
his sword over his head ; and sent Har- 
ris back to the rear with orders to push 
them on, and join him before he got 
to the creek. 

This Harris did, but when they got 
there, they could not find the log, ow- 
ing, Elbert supposed, to the high tide. 
As the only alternative, Elbert ordered 
the soldiers to swim the creek. A few 
obeyed. Others alleged that they could 
not swim. Some of the enemy who 
had been at Spring Hill moved down, 
and kept up a smart fire on Elbert and 
his party, rather than be taken prison- 
er, Elbert saved himself by swimming 
across the creek, as did Col. Harris and 
Major Grimki*. 

* Elbert's testimony. 

Major Lucas with eighty men of the 
first column of the brigade arrived at 
the mouth of McGiloray's creek, where 
from the words used by Elbert, he in- 
ferred he intended to direct his march. 
Having no orders to go further, he halt-, 
ed and staid there some time, when 
Major Haberisham, a superior officer ar- 

This officer hoisted a flag and sur- 
rendered the party to the enemy's forces 
who had by ibis time reached the place. 
The greater part of the brigade who 
went into Savannah, having reached 
the creek were included in the surren- 

The events just related of the over- 
throw of the Georgia brigade, and their 
subsequent misfortunes following each 
other in quick succession, were crowd- 
ed into a brief space of time. While 
Howe was carrying into effect his ar- 
rangements for re-inforcing the party at 
the defile, and some other measures for 
protecting his army, in their retreat, all 
their calamities befell this ill-fated brig- 
ade. Howe incurred as little delay as 
possible, for so soon as he had satisfied 
himself that every expedient had been 
adopted for the security of the army he 
rode down towards the rear of the line, 
but coming to the artillery, he found to 
his great surprise that the Georgia brig- 
ade was not in view. None of the offi- 
cers of the corps could give him any in- 
formation of the time or cause of the 

Alarmed at the mysterious disappear- 
ance of these troops, he sent orders to 
the South Carolina brigade who were 

* Howe's defence. 



in front, to hasten their march for the 
defile, and urged Major Roberts to press 
on the artillery, as he was anxious for 
its safety also. 

The scene of terror and confusion 
which ensued upon the rout of thg 
Georgia troops is depicted in a few strik- 
ing particulars by an eye witness. 

" Georgia citizens and Georgia troops, 
scattered every where, some on foot 
running and others on horseback riding 
at full speed ; all in affright and disor- 
der and all aiming at the same point, 
the Spring Hill, defile and straining ev- 
ery nerve to reach it."* 

About this time there was a scene 
being enacted in the distance, which, 
could Howe have beheld it, would have 
reanimated and inspired him with fresh 
ardor. It was the attempt of a British 
party to dislodge Iluger from his post 
at the defile, and his gallant stand 
which compelled them to retire. I his 
party was the one mentioned by Elbert 
as moving down from the defile to the 
mouth of the creek, and pouring their 
Tollies of vengeance on the fragments 
of the Georgia brigade who had retreat- 
ed there. 

The General now took his station at 
the head of the South Carolina brigade, 
about one hundred yards west of the 
barracks. Col. Ternant who had made 
some attempts to join the retreating 
continentals joined him. They were 
retreating in tolerably good order al- 
though annoyed by the fire of the ene- 
my*. Parties of the British soldiery 
were continually sallying from the town 
to attack the retreating divisions, and 


the light infantry on Howe's flanks, as 
often advancing to meet and to drive 
them back, in' which they always suc- 
ceed. These conflicts between the Brit- 
ish assailants and the American flankers 
continued until Howe reached the south- 
west extremity of the town. 

From this point to the defile — nearly 
three miles — he retreated between two 
fires, and suffered severely until he came 
within the range of the protecting posts 
of Roberts and Huger, who repelled the 
attacking parties with great spirit and 
effect, the former raking them with his 
artillery, and the latter galling them 
with his musquetry*. 

This stage of Howe's retreat approxi- 
mated more nearly to a general engage- 
ment than any of the skirmishes or 
slaughter which preceded it. 

When Howe got near the defile, he 
was met by Col. Marbury. That inde- 
fatigable officer had followed the flying 
militia from the pass on the right, to 
some distance beyond the defile in ex- 
pectation of rallying them, and was now 
returning without having succeeded in 
his object. Howe urged him to make 
another f ttempt, and he again set out 
in pursuit of them. At this time the 
troops were in great disorder]-. The 
armv at length reached the defile,*and 
Howe ,ook possession of the houses on 
each sid^ of it. Here Ternant reported 
to him hi efforts in executing the com- 
mission on which he had been sent, to 
supersede Col. Walton, at his post. It 
was in words to this effect. General, I 
take this opportunity to report to you, 

* M'Call's Annals of Georgia, 
t Marbury's testimony. 



the result of the commission with which 
you honored me, in ordering me to join 
the militia at the pass, intended as a 
further protection of the right flank. — 
You were pleased to direct me to post 
them in such a manner as would best 
answer the object, which was to cover 
the retreat. I rode to the post with 
a celerity due to the importance of the 
exigency. I found them drawn up in 
one rank, to the number of ninety-three, 
with a field-piece, nearly opposite the 
pass. The British light infantry were 
formed on an eminence near the swamp 
and amounted to about three hundred 
and fifty men. The field piece was direct- 
ed to fire into the thickest of the enemy, 
and the militia encouraged to keep their 
ground until the enemy by approach- 
ing nearer could ' be fired upon and 
skirmished with, so as to cover the re- 
treat of the troops from Fair Lawn. 

On more reflection, however, I thought 
it best to advance the militia, who were 
at too great a distance from the swamp 
(70 or 80 yards) closer to it ; but be- 
fore the necessary movements could be 
performed with this irregular body — 
to my surprise another division of the 
British light infantry, about three hun- 
dred and fifty in number, came out of 
the swamp — filing off to the right and 
left, so a.s to come on the flank of the 
militia who from that moment could 
not be prevailed upon to make the 
omallest alteration in their actual posi- 
tion. As soon as the light infantry had 
performed their angular evolutions out 
of the reach of the musketry, and had 
arrived at the wings of the militia, they 
marched briskly, or rather rushed on 
with great shouts. 

Struck by the immense superiority 
of the enemy by the recent accession 
from the swamp, which augmented their 
force to seven hundred men, the militia 
broke and fled towards Spring Hill 
causeway.* (Some of them who were 
inhabitants of Savannah fled thither 
and were bayonetted by the British 
Light Infant 17 f) 

A few of the militia fired their guns 
as they were retiring, upon which the 
enemy poured in a heavy fire. 

As soon as the field piece was spiked 
up I rode off and attempted to join the 
Continential troops, but could not suc- 
ceed until I met them to the westward 
of the barracks. 

" The body of militia here spoken of, 
must not be confounded with the Geor- 
gia brigade who were regulars, a part 
of whom — nearly coincident in number 
with the militia — by the ill-judged de- 
viation of Elbert from the orders of 
Howe, and his subsequent fatal attempt 
to change the formation of the column, 
were cutoff shortly afterwards, from the 
main body of the retreating army, and 
thrown into the power of the same ene- 
my — Sir James Baird. 

This body of militia under Col. Wal- 
ton had been posted at the pass with 
orders to resist the' enemy at the out- 
let, and thereby give notice of their pas- 
sage through the swamp. How Wal- 
ton performed this duty has been seen 
by the testimony of Marbury and the 
report of Temant. 

The troops, with the artillery, except 
one field piece which was abandoned, 
were got over the causeway and passed 

* Ternant's Testimony, 
t McCall's Annals. 



through the defile as far as the Red 
house, called McGilorays, near the up- 
per end of the defile, where they halted. 
By this time Col. Marbury returned 
and reported that he had again over-, 
taken the militia beyond the upper end 
of the defile, but that this last attempt 
had been as ineffectual as the former. 

When all hope of the Georgia brig- 
ade arriving seemed to be extinguished, 
Howe thought it best to march on as 
the en?my were pressing on him. He 
halted again at the upper end of the 
defile. The General now sent Marbury 
with orders to Col. White who com- 
manded the gallies, lying at Race Hall, 
to move up the river, and when at an 
advantageous point to come to, in order 
to prevent any armed boats of the ene- 
my from running up the river, and 
landing a force to cut off his retreat; 
but at the same time, with orders not 
to remain in any place so long as to 
endanger the force under his com- 

It is said by McCall that Howe was 
desirous to maintain his stand at this 
place some time longer, but the impet- 
uosity of the enemy compelled him to 
retire. Howe's account is more proba- 

" We staid here," says he, (at the up- 
per end of the defile) "some time longer, 
hoping that the missing troops or some 
part of them, might arrive ; but being 
informed by a person coming out of the 
town that he saw them going towards 
Yamacran — and the South Carolina 
brigade with the artillery, having pass- 
ed through the defile and reached some 
distance on the retreat, and the enemy 
6till keeping up a smart fire upon us, 

the motives for remaining here ceased."* 
He therefore continued his march 
until he arrived at Cherokee Hill, eight 
miles from Savannah, late at night. At, 
this place his first step was to send Lt. 
Fennill, with orders to Lieut. Smith, 
who had command at Ogeechee Ferry, 
to evacuate his post — to retreat and 
join the army at Two Sisters' Ferry.— 
Becoming apprehensive that his first 
order written in the act of retreating — 
to evacuate the fort at Sunbury, was 
not received, he on this halt wrote one, 
more explicit in its contents, respecting 
the order for evacuation, and directing 
that if the stores could not be removed, 
they should be destroyed and the can- 
non spiked. This letter he sent by 
Capt. Wood. Another to the same ef- 
fect, was sent by a different officei in 
less than an hour afterwards, with or- 
ders to Major Lane, the officer com- 
manding, to retreat across th« country 
and join the General at the Two Sis- 
ters' Ferry .f 

Some, if not all of these orders were 
received, but the officer delayed obey- 
ing them, until he heard from the Gen- 
eral again, in consequence of which the 
party fell into the enemy's hands a few 
days afterwards. Major Lane, had re- 
cently been second in command at that 
post, when an attack upon it had been 
gallantly repulsed. The magistrates 
and citizens of the town (Sunbury) 
hoping for the same favorable issue 
again, beset and implored him to con- 
tinue in the fort. The importunity of 
his fellow citizens prevailed on him to 
defer the execution of his orders, and 

* Howe's defence, 
t Ibid. 



hence the result noticed above.- .He; 
was subsequently tried by a Court-mar- 
tial, and dismissed for disobedience of 

On the night of the 30th December, 
Howe reached Trentlan's plantation, 
about forty-five miles from Savannah. 
He halted that night at a plantation a 
mile from Trentlan's, and the next morn- 
ing sent Major De Keyser to Augusta, 
with orders for the troops stationed 
there, to cross the river and join the 
continental army wherever they might 

Howe, in his retreat, nowhere des- 
troyed or took up the bridges ; assign- 
ing as a reason that he would not put 
it out of the power of the inhabitants to 
remove their effects. There was a great 
deal of properly and some lives saved 
by this precaution.! 

He also sent a party of horse to Eb- 
enezer bridge to guard the pass and to 
give notice of the approach of the 

The reader will remember that when 
Howe arrived at Chejokee Hill though 
it was late at night he did several im- 
portant acts, and that among these was 
that of sending Lieut. Fennell to Lieut. 
Smith, who commanded at Ogeechee 
Ferry, with orders to evacuate his post, 
and join the army at the Two Sisters. 
It appears, at the halt, that such was 
the celerity of these two officers, that 
Lieut. Smith succeeded in joining a de- 
tachment of the rear guard at Ebene-, after a march of thirty-six hours 
through a country of swamps and cov- 
ered with water. 

:;On ; the 31st of December, Howe ar- 
rived at the Two Sisters ferry and com- 
menced sending over the baggage. The 
army crossed the river the same day in 
boats. The few he could not get over 
at that time, he left under the command 
of Col. Hnger, at the Two Sisters, with 
orders to join the army at Purysburg. 
Thus, after two days of fatigue and anx- 
iety, Howe accomplished his purpose 
of placing his army beyond the reach 
of immediate vicinity. 

Gen. Howe having resigned his com- 
mand to Gen. Lincoln at Purysburgh, 
set off on the 4th of January, lY^, for 

the head quarters of Gen. Washington. 

The loss of the Americans in the un- 
fortunate affair at Savannah, according 
to the official accounts of the British 
commander was as follows: 

" Thirty-eight officers of different dis- 

Four hundred and fifteen non-com- 
missioned and privates. 

One stand of colors. 

Forty-eight pieces of cannon, (belong- 
ing to Savannah.) 

Twenty-three mortars. 

Ninety barrels of gunpowder. In 
short, (Campbell adds,) the Capitol of 
Georgia, a large quantity of provisions, 
&c, <fec, all fell into our possession be- 
fore it was dark, without any loss on 
our side, except Captain Peter Came- 
ron, a gallant officer of Skinner's Light 
Infantry, and two privates."* 

My account of the retreat, as I have 
more than once mentioned, is based on 

•Howe's defence. 

t Mr. John Wearat's testimony. 

X Howe's defence. 

* Gentleman's Magazine for 1779. 



the testimony adduced at the trial of 

To exhibit the contrast between 
Campbell's statement and mine, I will 
once more revert to his official. "On 
this occasion," (conjuncture it should 
be) says Campbell, " / commanded the 
line of march briskly forward. The 
well directed artillery of the line, the 
rapid advance of the 7lst regiment, 
and the forward countenance of the 
Hessian regiment of Well worth, instant- 
ly dispersed the enemy,"* &c, <fec. 

"If the statements of Campbell be true, 
those of numerous witnesses of unim- 
peachable veracity, and American offi- 
cers of the highest honor — are false. — 
If Campbell's statement be true, there 
was no retreat, on the part of Howe. 
He was vanquished at a single blow ; 
and the same blow that destroyed Howe 
at his position at Fair Lawn, annihilat- 
ing time and distance, demolished nine- 
ty four of the Georgia brigade on the 
plain at a distance of a mile and a half 
and at this plain, according to Camp- 
bell terminated the whole action of the 
day — "with brilliant success!" 

If Campbell's account be true, the 
relation on oath of Gen. Elbert of the 
progress of Howe's retreat from his po- 
sition at Fair Lawn, to a point within 
a hundred yards of the southeastern 
extremity of the town — where he de- 
viated and attempted to change the 
formation of the troops — must also be 
a fable though attested by several oth- 
er witnesses of high respectability, and 
by Howe himself. If on the contrary, 
the statements of these witnesses be 

* Gentleman's Magazine for 1779. 

true, as I have no doubt they are, I 
have convicted Campbell of the grossest 
falsehood, and moreover of a criminal 
suppression of facts with regard to that 
part of the retreat which extended from 
the southeastern extremity of the town 
to the Spring Hill defile; as none but 
the commander could have detached 
parties in pursuit of the retreating army 
with orders to hang on their flanks, 
nearly the whole of that stage of the re- 

It is true that Howe's army was sad- 
ly reduced ; but does that fact lessen 
the difficulties or the glory of the re- 
treat? In my opinion it in an extraor- 
dinary degree enhances both. 

Having in my narrative of the retreat, 
referred to Edmund Burke, I feel that 
it involves me in an obligation to speak 
of him more fully in regard to this af- 

Placed on a lofty eminence as the 
annalist of the British Isles, of continen- 
tal Europe, of India and of America his 
vast abilities and his exalted character 
would naturally inspire the hope, that 
he would open a new era in histoucal 
literature ; that truth and justice — se- 
vere truth, and rigid justice, would be 
the main objects of his researches. But 
so far as my limited investigations have 
presented his character as a historian 
to my view — I have been wofully dis- 

He has indeed diffused inimitable 
splendors over these immense and di- 
versified fields. He has introduced oc- 
casionally, philosophical views which 
are deeply interesting. He has embel- 
lished history with all the graces of 
rhetoric — but he has formed no knew 
era — he has made no moral improve- 



merit in the science — he has not im- 
parted to history the terrors of her " aw- 
ful face." He has not always separat- 
ed truth from falsehood ; nor does he 
appear desirous to do so. He seems to 
have received the statements of the 
Gazettes with sanguine and implicit 

In his notice of the tragedy of which 
I have given my readers a glimpse, he 
has certainly been misled by these pub- 
lications. Nay more, he has decorated 
the official letter of Campbell with the 
felicities of his own peculiar diction, and 
spread over the picture the tints of his 
own brilliant imagination and thus sanc- 
tioned falsehood under the semblance 
of truth. Far less penetration than 
Burke possessed and a very email share 
of his critical acumen would have suf- 
ficed to separate the crimes which 
Campbell landed, from the high sound- 
ing appellatives, with which he attempt- 
ed to disguise them and expose the ac- 
tors more fully than can be done after 
the lapse of 70 years. * * * * 

One who has been detected in gross 
falsehood is naturally suspected when- 
ever a case occurs in which his interest 
would lead him to exaggerate or mis- 
represent. I find it impossible to credit 
Campbell's statement of the numbers of 
prisoners taken. Thirty-eight officers 
and four hundred and fifteen non-com- 
missioned and privates could not have 
been taken of the Georgia brigade in 
addition to eighty-three killed, and sev- 
eral officers and privates, who, it is cer- 
tain, made their escape, and gave their 
testimony on the trial. Of the South 
Carolina brigade or the artillery, not 
one was taken. Campbell adds that he 
learns from some ot the prisoners that 

■ thirty were drowned in the swamps in 
attempting to escape, which increases 
the amount to five hundred and sixty- 
six men, lost to Howe's army, leaving 
only one hundred and eighty-four men, 
for the South Carolina brigade, and the 
artillery, beside some light horse who 
accompanied Howe. Can it be believed 
that these two bodies of troops, consist- 
ed of no more than this number ? and 
is it credible that with such a hand- 
ful of men, Howe could hava made an 
orderly retreat, in the face of an attack- 
ing and pursuing force of from seven 
hundred to fourteen hundred men, who 
annoyed him until he passed the upper 
Spring Hill defile, a distance of five 
miles, according to the best information 
I can obtain \ 4 


Howe, after he got among his friends 
in North Carolina, was induced to be- 
come a candidate for a seat in the House 
of Commons of the Legislature of North. 
Carolina, to represent the county of 
Brunswick that year, (1785.) 

He canvassed the county during the 
hottest part of the summer. In his 
journey he was frequently obliged to 
swim his horse over water-courses 
where there was no bridges, and under- 
went all the hardships of traveling 
through a thinly settled country. He 
succeeded in his election. The expo- 
sure I have mentioned, although tri- 
fling when compared with those he en- 
dured in his campaign against Florida, 
and from which he experienced uo in- 
jury, brought on a severe attack of bil- 
lious fever. I saw him after he recov- 
ered. He came to Wilmington on bu- 
siness. He landed from his boat at 



Orange street dock, near to which my 
father then resided. I descried him at a 
distance and ran to meet him. He ascen- 
ded the hill, much more precipitous then 
than it is at present, without apparent 
fatigue, though I thought he looked 

On hearing that my father was not 
at home he gave me a note for him, 
and desired me to be careful of it, as it 
contained money, and then look leave. 
While I went to deposit it in a place 
of safety, he left the spot, and I saw 
him no more. 

How slight seems the link that con- 
nects the patriot of the eighteenth, with 
the septuagenarian of the nineteenth 
century, and yet how enduring it is ! — 
Howe little dreamed »that the boy 
whose hand he then pressed, ^.would, 
mora than sixty years afterwards, be 
collecting materials to become the com- 
piler of his memoirs, and the vindicator 
of his fame. 

A day oj 1 two after I saw him in Wil- 
mington, Howe set off for the seat of 
the Legislature, which, I think, was 
Fayelteville. This was about the lat- 
ter end of October. 

On the evening of the first day's ride, 
he reached Point Repose, the residence 
of his brother officer, Brigadier Gene- 
ral Thomas Clark. He probably con- 

templated a visit of some days to hia 
compatriot. There were many revolu- 
tionary reminiscences to be touched on, 
and there was much in the era through 
which the country was then passing, of 
"State politics, and unreasonable jeal- 
ousies"* to afford a wide range for free 
conversation and anxious discussion, 
among the friends of an "efficacioua 
union";f and in the cause of such an 
union, Howe was preparing to become 
a conspicuous and energetic actor. But 
vain are the plans and expectations of 
mortals! Howe, shortly after he reach- 
ed Point Repose, was again attacked 
by the fever from which he had but 
partially recovered. This relapse was 
marked by alternations of delirium and 
stupor, which continued for two weeks. 
On the morning of the last day the stu- 
por left him. He rose and dressed 
himself, but soon becoming exhausted, 
he threw himself on the bed, and in 
the course of an hour he expired. 

His remains were conveyed to Ken- 
dal, his plantation in Brunswick coun- 
ty, and interred in the family burying 

* Letter ofWashington to Hamilton — Sparka, 
vol. 8, page 109—110. 
+ Ibid., 





Not many years since, there existed 
in the far-famed county of Sampson, an 
individual, who, for the singularity of 
his shape, the incidents connected with 
his life, and above all, his tragical birth, 
is well deserving of the study of every 
naturalist and the notice of every his- 
torian. But it seems that he shares 
the fate of many of our illustrious men 
of the Revolution, and his deeds have 
been suffered to moulder in the dusty 
archives of oblivion till scarcely a ves- 
tige of his true character has been left 
behind, and we had just as well at- 
tempt to straddle a streak of lightning, 
M to bind the unicorn," or discover ihe 
sources of the Nile, as to collect the 
incidents of his life into the form of a 
biography. No record has been left 
behind to tell of his illustrious achieve- 
ments, and the fruits of his prowess rest 
only in tradition. 

Like every great man, he came into 
the world under adverse circumstances. 
With an olfactory organ whose longitu- 
dinal dimension was so great, that it 
invariably stirred up the sugar in his 
coffee before his lips touched the rim of 
the cup, with lips that looked like two 
huge waffle-irons bedaubed with dough 
•wung to a steel-trap kind of a mouth ; 
and ears that resembled the auricular 
appendages of the genus mulus, he was 
an object of terror to all around him, 
and tradition avers that, at his birth, his 
Vol. Ill— 32. 

mother was so terrified at the appear- 
ance of the being she had brought into 
existence, like Milton's Sin at the birth 
of Death, that she shrunk back 
from him in the agonies of horror, 
and uttering a harsh shrill shriek, gave 
up the ghost, thus leaving him at the 
very entrance into life, without a moth- 
er's smiles and encouragements to stim- 
ulate him to noble efforts, and above all, 
without that maternal oversight, which 
is so essential to "training up a child 
in the way he should go." 

But the ways of the Almighty are 
mysterious, and who can tell the good 
he brings about by misfortune. Ho 
has so ordained it, that true greatness 
will always manifest itself, and though 
it may for awhile be trampled down by 
the iron-heel of despotism, or obscured 
from public view by the dark clouds of 
prejudice and obscurity of birth, the 
day-star of glory will eventually shine 
upon it, and the goddess fortune will 
expel, as if by magic, all the mists of 
ignorance that are hanging over tbe 
popular mind. 'Tis circumstances that 
bring to light the powers that lie with- 
iu, and circumstances that make known 
to the individual the hidden treasures 
of his own genius. 

Rory Simmons (for such was the 
name of the subject of this memoir,) 
soon grew up and waxed fat ; for he 



• In this, our happy and 'progressive' age, 
When all alike ambitious cares engage ; 
When beardless boys to sudden sages grow, 
And ' Miss 7 her nurse abandons for a beau;" 

and being fully impressed with the spir- 
it of the times, managed by plentiful 
feeding and little exercise, to induce his 
"middle part'' to progress so rapidly 
that in a short time his eyes were al- 
most unable to see his toes. His falh 
er could not fail to see the progress his 
son was making toward " honorable 
manhood," and desirous that he should 
not be cast upon the 'old uncharitable 
■world without knowing "how to m*ke 
a living for himself," resolved to take 
him out to a neighboring pond and 
teach him all the minutiae of "Huckle- 
berry picking," the favorite employment 
of his countrymen ; and at the age of 
fourteen, with a pick-basket on his arm 
and a sheep-bell girt about his neck, he 
sauntered out from the retirement of his 
father's log cabin, to make his first ap 
pearance in public. I will not do him 
the ii justice to attempt a minute de- 
scription of the excitement that prevail 
ed among the "huckleberry women" 
■when he made his entrance into the 
pond, on account of the supernatural 
power he seemed to have over the hab- 
its of the animals around him. Suffice 
"it to say, that cows, that were never 
known to raise their heads before, went 
scampering off, like herds of deer, at 
sight of him, making the surrounding 
hills reverberate with their mournful 
bellowing 6 ; hogs dropped their tails 
and rushed off through the bushes as 
precipitately as if they had been decoy- 
ed into a hornets nest; the dogs, owned 
by the '^huckleberry pickers," curled 
their tales under them and scampered 

away in a greater hurry, than theii rep- 
resentative in the fable when the lion 
turned upon him and roared; and* even 
the feathered songsters of the forest, as 
they stretched over their necks from be- 
hind the thick foliage of the trees, com- 
menced a terrible "chit chatting," as 
if to say they had never seen the like 

. "Huckleberries" and red dirt (of 
which he consumed no small amount) 
had conspired to give him a rotundity 
of abdomen and palidness of cheek not 
much unlike those of the celebrated 
Rousy Sniffle in the Georgia Scenes.— 
His hair, being unencumbered by the 
useless weight of a hat and unchecked 
in its progress by the intervention of the 
shears, soon grew to the size of a com- 
mon brush-heap, and from the intense 
redness ofits color, was not unfrcquent- 
ly mistaken for the Aurora Borealis. As 
for his eyes, like the terrible Cyclops, 
he had but one, 

" But that was a whopper— a terrible one — 
' As lart?e (.Virgil says) as the disk ot the sun !' 
A brilliant, but raiher extravagant figure, 
Which means, I suppose, that his eye was much 

Than yours— or* ven the orb of your sly 
Old bachelor-friend who's ' a wile in his eye." 

His feet stuck out like shovels, and 
it was a custom with him to wear his 
pants short enough to display their 
most extraordinary dimensions. His 
broad palm-leaf hands, he invariably 
carried spread out like a strutting pea- 
cock's tail, beneath slim long wrists, 
which were covered by short frazzled 
calico sleeves, and his elbows stuck up 
like " grasshoppers." In fine, he united 
all the species of deformity, and stood 
forth pre-eminently the prince of ugly fcl- 



lows, iu as much as nature seems to 
have intended him as a burlesque upon 
the genus homo. 

Like too many youths of our land at 
the present day, he was reared up in 
comparative ignorance of bis unpar- 
alleled charms, for, although the cattle 
always fled at his approach and his fa- 
ther's dog would invariably conceal 
himself uuder the house when he pass 
ed through the yard, he thought it was 
only in their nature, in as much as they 
bad always done so, and never once en- 
tertained the opinion that his looks 
could create such foolish movements. 

But *' a change soon came over the 
spirit of his dreams, 1 ' and soon portrayed 
in uumistakeable language the high re- 
pute in which his 1 > ks were held. 

Wishing to obtain a more thorough 
geographical knowledge of the sur- 
rounding country, and also, as the say- 
ing is, '* to set up shop fur himself," he 
went to his father and annouuced his 
intention of leaving bis native county, 
and seeking a more propitious home 
among the low grounds of Wayne. In 
vain the old man expatiated on the su- 
periorly of the "big blues of Samp- 
son," over any other "huckleberries " 
in the world, and cautioned him against 
the folly of leaving the old homestead. 
In vain he talked of the recklessness of 
youth and the follies of building air- 
castles Rory swore he bad been told 
everybody could get a plenty of tobac- 
co in Wayne, (a great desideratum 
among thebluelipped Sampsonians, es- 
pecially after "huckleberry" season is 
over) and he meant to go there too ; he 
knew he could pick as many ''huckle- 
berries " as any body, and as for carry- 
ing them to the railroad he did'nt ask 

any body any odds. As for old Samp- 
son be wished he may be landed in 
h — 11 if he intended to stick right down 
iu the same spot all his life; none of 
the "galls'' cared anything about him, 
and he was now twenty-three years old 
and without a wife ; he must be doing 
something for his country, or else the 
name would die out. The old man 
might say what he pleased, but he'd be 
hanged if he won't going to Wayne. 

He accordingly stole off one mid- 
night when everything was hushed in 
sleep, having first laid in his knapsack 
all the tobacco the old man had about 
the bouse, and a corn -cake, he scratch- 
ed ou f , of the ashes in the fire-place, 
where he had put it before bed time 
expressly for the purpose, and having 
tied hid bran new yellow cotton baud- 
kerchief around his neck, as the safe* 
test way of carrying it, and having 
swung his Sunday-go-to meeting shoes 
over one arm, he started out with bright 
hopes and a merry heart at having 
"come it over the old man so nicely." 
He soon crossed over the county line 
into that portion of Wayne, familiarly 
known as " Little Texas," and day- 
breaking upon him just as he was on 
the border of the turbulent (Joshen, he 
saw the extensive " huckleberry" ponds 
in that region spreading out before him 
as if inviting him to take holt. He halt- 
ed and gazed a moment in utter aston- 
ishment. Said he to himself " cow you 
see how much sense I had in leaving 
that confounded old Sampson. I wish 
the old man was here. I'd show him 
whether I have been building air ca.ssela 
or not. He wouldn't believe me if I 
tell him all about this here, but I'll be 
hanged if I don't intend to try some* 



of these huckleberries" ; and he then 
proceeded to a large bush that was so 
full that its branches were almost bent 
double, and commenced eating with one 
hand and filling his knapsack with the 
other. He had put in only a few hand- 
fulls of the berries, when his ears were 
assailed by the noise of splashing wa- 
ters and turning suddenly around be 
held a couple of cows swimming the 
Creek as fast as if they had been fright- 
ened almost to death. The cows no 
sooner saw his visage as he whirled 
around than they commenced bellow- 
ing, and the water rushing into their 
mouths, strangled them to death. Ro- 
ry thought the quicker he left this 
spot the better it would be for him; so 
he hastened on to his uncle's house 
about the interior of the "huckleberry 
region," and making known his inten- 
tions of living with him during the sea- 
son, and carefully suppressing an ac- 
count of the drowned cattle, was kind- 
lv received and entertained. He soon 
ingratiated himself into the affections 
of his cousin, a buxom lass of about 
eighteen, and had bright prospects of 
obtaining her hand; but misfortune, 
which seems to have been his most 
faithful companion, did not scruple to 
follow him here. A report had been 
circulated in the neighborhood that two 
of Mr. Crow's cows had been found 
dead in the Goshen, and it was the pre- 
valent opiuion, from the knots in their 
tails, that they had been drowned while 
witches were riding them; and his "ju- 
larkee," taking a walk with him one 
evening to the " huckleberry pond," and 
seeing the confusion created in the 
Movements of the surrounding cattle, 
esoecially cows, declared he was a witch 

and she would have nothing more to 
do with him. Tp add to his already 
almost insupportable burden of cares, 
before the first season was over poor Ro» 
ry Simmons was summoned to appear 
before the county court and answer to 
the enormous charge of making faces 
at his neighbors cattle and running 
them all out of the county. 

Not caring to encounter the jeers of 
men whom he expected his fame for 
ugliness would attract to the roadside 
he started off long before day to Waynes- 
boro' to stand his trial ; but bad luck 
attended him here, and, instead of hid- 
ing him from view as he had anticipat- 
ed, darkness only served to render him 
the more conspicuous. His head was 
so red that it woke up all the chickens 
by the roadside, making them think it 
was day, and at many places the hardy 
yeomen, hearing their •crowing and 
cackling and thinking thieves were 
amongst them, came rushing out to de- 
fend their feathered dependants ; but as 
soon as they caught sight of the offen- 
der, slammed too their doors muttering 
something about judgment day and 
the world coming to an end, and left 
our hero alone, terrified out of his senses 
at the disturbance his own looks was 

He arrived at Waynesboro', a little 
village on one of the "silvery windings 
of the Neuse," just before clay break : 
and circumstances having by this time 
made him fully conscious of the extra- 
ordinary powers of his charms, he se- 
creted himself behind the benches in 
tke court house gallery till the time for 
the meeting of court, not wishing to 
be discovered by any of the impudent 
villagers who he thought would be 



seekijig him out in every crowd to 
make sport of him like the naughty 
Philistines did of Samson. 

Court convened at 12 o'clock, and 
when his name was called out by the 
constable for him to appear as defend- 
ant, he raised up his huge head and 
muttered out something in such an un- 
earthly tone as to frighten all in the 
court-room almost out of their senses. 
The presiding magistrate leaped out of 
the window swearing he had seen the 
"old boy himself," and fell with such 
vehemence to the ground as to sprain 
his ankle ; the sheriff looked up and 
seeing his large red head peering above 
the benches in the gallery, declared the 
house was on fire, and rushed out of the 
door in a tremendous hurry, leaving 
the tail of his eoat behind on the door- 
knob, and the whole court were soon 
crowding and tumbling out of the win- 
dows and doors, bruising, mashing and 
suffocating each other as they went. 

Rory Simmons, hearing the "weeping 
and wailing," and smashing of toes from 
without, and his sensitive heart being 
moved with compassion, scrambled 
down the steps as his ponderous body 
would allow him, without waiting to 
ponder on the consequences of the act 
and seeing a little squint-eyed brat ly- 
ing flat of his back in the court-yard, 
writhing and cursing under the pain of 
a mashed foot, picked him up in his 
arms and began to soothe him with 
tender words as be stroked down the 
bruised limb with his hand. But the 
lad, looking up into his face and see- 
ing his nasal extremity jobbed out at 
him like a "ten foot pole," only squall- 
ed out the louder, and the attention of 
those around him being attracted by 
his death-like cries, some began to run 

through the village bawling and squal- 
ling the judgment day had come; old Sa- 
tan had got into the court house and riii* 
every body out, had sprained 'Squire 
Tibbie's leg— tore off the Constable's 
coat-tail in trying to catch him, andt 
now had Billy Barnum in his arms 
squeezing and burning him to death. 

An old lady in the suburbs of 
Waynesboro', as she heard the tale, de- 
clared "she had always told 'em some- 
thing would happen to 'em yet for ail 
that boy's cussing so yisterday," and 
away she bounded. The militia of the 
place were now drawn together to de- 
fend the inhabitants against something 
they knew not what ; but as soon as 
the militia saw the head of the intruder 
they dropped their arms and fled like 
sheep before a wolf, thinking it useless 
to contend with " the great enemy of 
mankind" with weapons of steel. The 

before quiet village of W was 

now all turmoil and confusion, and our 
hero, knowing too well the cause of 
this uproar, and fearing for his own 
safety, made his escape from the village, 
started in the direction of a vast "huckle- 
berry pond" on the Neuse, and has 
never been seen by mortal eye since. 

Some suppose to this very day that 
Rory Simmons was gifted with supernat- 
ural powers, and it is reported by the 
fishermen of a certain seine-hole on the 
Neuse, that on dark rainy nights as they 
were drawing in their seine they have 
frequently heard his ghost walking on 
the loose sand on the beach up and 
f own the river, and whenever they hear 
his footsteps they invariably hang up 
the seine and start off for their homes, 
thinking it utterly useless to make hauls 
when the seine is bewitched. 



The Sampsonians, however, assert 
that there is a certain "huckleberry 
pond" on the border of their county, to 
which or by which, it is utterly impos- 
sible to drive a hog, cow, or any other 
animal, and even all the birds have left 

it. There is no other way of account- 
ing for this curious phenomenon except 
that Rory Simmons, tired of the vain 
world and fearing for his life, has taken 
up his residence in it. 

Abraham Beeswax. 



What though they burn, I'll let them flow, 

In scalding torrents down my cheek ; 
Cutting wide channels as they go, 

That must through t ; me grow still more deep. 
For ther« is an angel tendeth — 

Along my path to guide my feet, 
And in sorrow she befriendeth — 

Bottling up the tears I weep ! 

Courage, my heart, they prove a treasure, 

In a brighter world than this ; 
Then why strive to stint their measure 

For a momentary bliss. 

Nay, let them flow, if they're gathered, 

Up by angels as they fall 
From my cheeks, all pale and withered,. 

'Till grief has given to them all. 

Then my body racked and wasted, 

With the trials it hath borne, 
And the sorrows heart hath tasted, 

Shall grow cold unto its core, . 
And in the grave lie down to rot, 

Undisturbed by any fears, 
'Till I'm called up to be blest 

And rejoice o'er all my tears. 




Mrs. Thrale, for so many years the friend and companion of Doctor Johnson, is understood t* 
have been the authoress of the following beautiful little poem, though it is so decidedly superior to 
the ordinary effusions of her Muse, that some persons have indulged the ungallant suspicion that 
it may have received a finishing touch from the hand of the Literary Giant. — Eds. Univ. Mao. 


The tree of deepest root is found, 
Least willing still to quit the ground ; 
'T was therefore said by ancient sages, 

That love of life increased with years, 
So much, that in our latter stages, 
When pains grow sharp and sickness rages, 

The greatest love of life appears. 
This great affection to believe, 
Which all confess, but few perceive, 
If old assertions can't prevail, 
Be pleased to hear a modern tale. 

When sports went round, and all were gay, 
On neighbor Dodson's wedding-day, 
Death called aside the jocund groom 
With him into another room, . 
And looking grave — " you must" said he, 
" Quit your sweet bride, and come with me !" 
With you ! and quit nry Susan's side ? 
" With you?" the hapless husband cried ; 
"Young as lam, 'tis monstrous hard! 
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared; 
My thoughts on other matters go ; 
This is my wedding day, you know ?" 
What more he urged I have not heard, 

His reasons could not well be stronger; 
So death the poor delinquent spared, 

And left to live a little longer. 
Yet calling up a serious look, 
His hour-glass trembled while he spoke — 
"Neighbor," he, said "farewell! no more 
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour: 
And farther, to avoid all blame 
Of cruelty upon my name, 
To give you time for preparation, 
And fit you for your future station, 
Three several warnings you shall have, 
Before you're summoned to the gTave; 
Willing for once I '11 quit my prey, 

And grant a kind reprieve ; 
In hopes you'll have no more to say: 
But, when I call again this way, 
Well pleased the world will leave !" 

To these conditions both consented, 
And parted perfectly contented. 

What next the hero of our tale befell, 
How long he lived, how wise, how well, 
How roundly he pursued his course, 
And smoked, his pipe and stroked his horse, 

The willing muse shall tell : 
He chaffered, then he bought, and sold, 
Nor once perceived his growing old, 

Nor thought of death as near ; 
His friends not false, his wife no shrew, 
Many his gains, his children few, 

He passed his hours in peace. 
But while he viewed his wealth increase, 
While thus along life's dusty road, 
The beaten track content he trod, 
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, . 
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares, 

Brought on his eightieth year. 
And now, one night, in musing mood, 

As all alone he sate, 
The unwelcome messenger of Fate 

Once more before him stood. 

Half-killed with anger and surprise, 
' So soon returned!' old Dodson cries. ' 
'So soon d'ye call it?' Death replies: 
'Surely my friend, you're but in jest! 

Since I was here before 
'Tis six-and- thirty years at least, 

And you are now fourscore ? 

' So much the worse,' the clown rejoined; 
' To spare the aged would be kind : 
However, see your search be legal ; 
And your authority — is't regal ? 
Else you are come on a fool's errand 
With but a secretary's warrant. 
Beside, you promised me Three Warnings, 
Which I have looked for nights and mornings 
But for that loss of time and ease, 
I can recover damages ? 



' I know,' cries Death, ' that at the best, 

I seldom am a welcome guest ; 

-But don't be captious, friend, at least ; 

I little thought you'd still be able 

To stump about your farm and stable : 

Your years hare run to a great length ; 

I wish you joy, though of your strength !' 

* Hold,' says the farmer, ' not so fast !' 
I have been lame this four years past. 
'And no great wonder,' Death replies : 
' However, you still keep your eyes ; 
And sure to see one's 1 oves and friends, 
For legs and arms would made amends.' 

'Perhaps,' says Dodson, so it might, 
But latterly I've lost my sight.' 

' This is a shocking tale, 'tis true ; 
But still there's comfort left for you : 
Each strives your sadness to amuse ; 
I warrant you hear all the news.' 

' There's none,' cries he : ' and if there were, 
I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear. 
' Nay, then,' the spectre stern rejoined, 

These are unjustifiable yearnings; 
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind, 

You've had your Three sufficient Warn- 
So come along, no more we'll part ;' 
He said and touched him with his dart.. 
And now Old Dodson, turning pale, 
Yields to his fate — so ends my tale. 


Behold this Ruin ! 't was a skull, 
Once of etherial spirit full ! 
This narrow cell was Life's retreat : 
This space was Thought's mysterious seat! 
What beauteous picture fill'd this spot — 
What dreams of pleasure long forgot ? 
Nor Love, nor Joy, nor Hope, nor Fear, 
. Has left one trace of record here ! 

Beneath this mould'ring canopy, 

Once shone the bright and busy eye — 

But start not at the dismal void! — 

If social love that eye employ'd, 

If with no lawless fire it gleam'd, 

But through the dew of kindness beam'd, 

That eye shall be forever bright, 

When stars and suns have lost their light ! 

Here, in this silent cavern, hung 

The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue : 

If Falsehood's honey it disdain'd, 

And where it could not praise, was chain'd; 

If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke, 

Yet gentle Concord never broke; 

That tuneful tongue shall plead for thee, 
When death unveils eternity ! 

Say, did these fingers delve the mine, 
Or with its envied rubies shine ? 
To hew the rock, or wear the gem, 
Can nothing no w avail to them : 
But if the page of Truth they sought, 
Or comfort to the mourner brought, 
These hands a richer meed shall claim 
Than all that waits on wealth or fame ! 

Avails it, whether bare or shod 
These feet the path of duty trod? 
If from the bowers of Joy they fled, 
To soothe Affliction's humble bed ; 
If Grandeur's guilty tribe they spurn'd, 
And home to Virtue's lap return 'd ; 
These feet with Angel's wings shall vie, 
And tread the palace of the sky. 

A supercilious nabob of the east, 
Haughty, being great, and purse-proud, being 
A governor or general at the least, 
I have forgotten which, 
Had in his family an humble youth, 
Who went from England in his patron's suit, 
A lad of decent parts and good repute. 

This youth had sense and spirit; 

But yet with all his sense, 
Excessive diffidence 

Obscured his merit. 

One day at table, flushed with pride and wine. 
His honor, proudly free, severely merry, 

Conceiv'd it would be vastly fine 
To crack a joke upon his secretaiy. 

"Young man," said he, "hy what art, craft or 

Did your good father gain his livelihood?" 
" He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, 

"And in his line was reckon'd good." 

" A saddler, eh ! and learnt you Greek, 
" Instead of learning you to sew ; '% 

" Pray, why did not your father make, 
A Saddler, sir, of yov f" 

Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, 

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 

At length Modestus, bowing low, 

Said, (craving pardon, if too free he made,) 
" Sir, by your leave, fain would I know 

" Your father's trade?" 



"My father's tradel — by Heav'n, that's too bad! 

" My father's trade ! why blockhead, art thou 
' ' My father, sir, did never stoop so low, 

"Me was a gentleman, I'd have you know!" 

" Excuse the liberty I take," 

(Modestus said with archness on his brow,) 
" Pray, why did not your father make 

" A gentleman of you f" 



In taking a view of past ages, in re- 
calling what has been done, and com- 
paring all with our own works and pos 
sessions ; we must confess that we en- 
joy peculiar advantages. Among the 
many blessings, which are ours, it is no 
small one, to have the iruits of litera- 
ture and science handed down from by- 
gone ages, together with our own efforts. 
We may lament, that ever there ftas 
an age of darkness, when man's genius 
was in thraldom, bound by the chains 
of ignorance and superstition ; when 
also much of that previous sunlight of 
literature was absorbed, and brilliant 
emanations of many a rising and setting 
star buried in oblivion and lost to all 
succeeding ages. 

Though such was man's condition for 
a time, while reason was obscured, but 
not consumed or assimilated in the then 
dominant powers, a glorious renovation 
has succeeded, in a later period in which 
we now live. Though much has been 
blotted out from learning's scroll and 

buried by each successive wave of time, 
yet, there is enough remaining. Enough 
for the most erudite, enough for the 
hollow-eyed book worm. 

It is our privilege to unlock the ar- 
chives of the Past. And there to read 
and re-read the accumulated tomes, be- 
queathed by great and honest minds. 
From this huge pile, each may have his 
choice. One may delight to trace the 
stream of poesy to its purest and lofty 
fount. Another may take the full 
sweeping tide, bearing him in any di- 
rection from the deep bosom of the 
ocean, and go back vo the very source 
of history. By turns, he may ascend 
each mighty river, fathom its depth, or 
skim lightly over the surface. If fancy 
pleases he may leave the main stream, 
and follow every tributary to its bub- 
bling spout. After numerous meauder- 
ings, and encountering various obstacles, 
he may at last standby the side of Father 
Herodotus. Yes, and what a wonder- 
ful tale, he could tell this noble sire. — 



What delights he had experienced ; 
how on the other hand, he had waded 
through swamps and quagmires, prolific 
in bogs and holes; again that he had 
scarce wet his feet in the shallow streams 
of Prolixity and Obscurity. "And 
these," quoth he, "are your worthy de- 
scendants, most noble Sire." Another 
may choose to climb the delectable 
mount of Theology. Collecting as he 
ascends all the rude specimens and 
charming deposites of former ages. — 
Those he meets with too burdensome 
and unwieldy for his own mastering, 
he rolls down to the plain below, for his 
less learned friends to snatch and grab 
for, who may devour with no hope of di- 
gestion. Some after years spent in be- 
seiging, scale the walls of the cheerless 
and trite old city, known in these later 
times by the attractive name of Philol- 
ogy. This city is of a most ancient 
origin. It is not certainly known when 
it was founded. There is no doubt, 
however, that its dimensions were great- 
ly enlarged, immediately, after the con- 
fusion of tongues at the building of the 
great tower of Babel. It is well known 
that it is chiefly built of the materials 
and in the style of Greece and Rome. 
There-is also interspersed, here and there, 
a little of the Hebrew ;;nd the very an- 
cient lanscript. These latter are less 
noticed, because not so common and so 
beautiful as the former. 

In these various fields for research 
there is an opening for all. Nor do 
men leave these opportunities unim- 
proved. Thousands are actively en- 
gaged in exploring, and then, of course, 
giving us an account of their labors. 
Some of course, penetrate further than 
others ; while all, both young and old 

are fond of entering this broad field, if 
but to advance a few steps. Here, gray- 
heads tower aloft. Sunken eyes and 
hollow cheeks, pale visages and frown- 
ing brows, are the peculiar features of 
the most zealous. Attenuated frames', 
the asthmatic cough, the horrors of 
dyspepsia, and the pains of consump- 
tion are no unfrequent attendants of 
these devoted men. 

But for what end is this constant 
untiring research ? Is it pleasure or 
hopes of wealth to be acquired ? Is it 
happiness, or pedantry, or ambition, or 
emulation, that prompts these great ef- 
forts, in -which men of great minds and 
many of humble capacities live over in 
their own minds, scenes of past and dis- 
tant ages never to be recalled into real 
existence ? It may be that each and 
all of these motives have their weight, 
besides many others not mentioned. — 
Education, in many cases, may be af- 
firmed as the promoting and dictating 
principle. It is in all, primarily, the 
acknowledged ostensible one. And 
with good reason ' is it urged, at least 
in accordance with modern philosophy. 
We grant it is one means, and a great 
one for the pursuit of education. But 
we deny it to the extent it is carried. 
It will be understood, that we speak, 
especially, of those who are and ex- 
pect to become writers ; for few make 
such exertions without in the end giv- 
ing us a touch of their pen. And as 
we have asked the question ? we answer 
it, by declaring this to be the main ob- 
ject of so much labor; that they may 
become authors and thus transmit their 
names to posterity. It has become ne- 
cessary or apparently so, that one, in 
order to write anything, for the public 



or even to be an orator, must read 
more or less, must search the pages of 
antiquity as well as store the mind with 
more modern literature. Why it is, or 
what is our view of it, may be learned 
in the sequel. 

But is this reading and studying, so 
vast in some cases, the best means of 
qualifying the mind to unburden itself, 
for the good of the world ? Who are 
those, that have filled this vast reservoir 
of literature ? It has indeed been 
filling for ages, from the remotest peri 
od of time. Are we to believe, that the 
minds of men of primitive times were 
inferior to those of the present age ? 
Is there a reciprocal relation in the ge- 
nius of those authors compared with 
ours ? Evidently not, if we but con- 
sider the estimation, in which they are 
now held and the avidity with which 
they are sought after and their contents 
devoured. No, such is not the case, 
far otherwise ; for test it with mathe- 
mathical precision and we must frankly 
own, it would be rather a decreasing 
progression from them to us. Now, 
whence did they draw their immense 
resources, a proof of which their works 
declare to us? Who had rilled coffers 
for them, or laid open inexhaustible 
treasures, with which they could deck 
their genius still in embryo? There 
were no stores of bright gems of thought 
heaped up for them. In the earliest 
times certainly none, and for many ages, 
doubtless, but few. Yet, wisdom was 
not wanting nor was knowledge scant. 
The mind held within itself the chief 
power of expansion. Nature was its 
text-book. Surrounding objects were 
its counsellors and instructors. Human 
nature was its manual. Kindred minds 

gave to oneanoth:'r their little sto e. — 
Such were the me ns afforded those 
who lived compared with ours, in the 
incipient stage of literature. 

We asked above the efficacy of these 
legacies of poets, historians, theologians, 
philosophers, scholiasts and other vari- 
ous literary characters, in forming the 
minds of those who now assume their 
places, and who are now producing my- 
riads of •volumes, apparently, of pure 
originality, touching the scientific, the 
erudite literary, or the more humble lu- 
dicrous and high wrought imaginative. 
No doubt, great benefit has been deriv- 
ed and superior advantages acquired in 
this way, by those who have made it 
not the foundation of mind but U e ac- 
cessory. By ransacking antique re" 
cords, and assuming or reviving the 
spirits of long departed shades, it is 
true, beyond a doubt, that many have 
added to the vast resources of their own 
minds. This class of readers who be- 
come writers, by holding converse with 
the great men of yore who speak might- 
ily in u nattered words, have not made 
the thoughts of those their reliance. 
They have used them but for the sleep- 
ers as it were, while t eir own form the 
foundation, and compose the whole su- 
perstructure. In this way, whatever 
is extraneous, is entire!}' concealed from 

Others, and not a few, have uncere- 
moniously and with little gratitude fed 
upon and digested the fruits cf ancient: 
lore. By this rude set, many an an- 
cient bard has been robbed of his 
richest jewels, and both Ids inner 
and outer dress torn from him, which 
now graceless'y adorns some fame's as- 
pirant of the present age. Or if we 



may express it more vividly, such an 
one, who has left a rich legacy, may 
be even drawn and quartered and his 
parts distributed here and there over the 
land. The worthy sons of the histron- 
ic Muse have met but a less grievous 
fate, because their treasures are of so 
peculiar a kind, as not to be extracted 
Stealthily. Owing to their nature it is not 
possible to alter their appearnnce,so that 
they will not be detected, or at least smell 
of their origin. But bold, etherial Imagi- 
nation's sons and daughters, and fair 
Fancy's noble progeny, have all met a 
hard fate ; for, these modern candidates 
for posterity's admiration, not content 
with beholding and admiring their splen- 
dour, have snatched with ruthless hands 
and cruel heart various relics of their 
devotion to the expansion of mind, by 
which many lost their lives in the fresh 
bloom of youth. Some have borne 
away a curling lock ; some a polished 
dental and some a left costal. With 
these, it is their object, to set off their 
own productions. Never do they think 
of giving credit to the real author. — 
These thoughts thus extracted from the 
page of antiquity, it is their custom to 
place in the foreground, while with ar- 
rant skill, like true rhetoricians and 
with real good policy, their own meagre 
and shallow arguments, or vapid and 
puerile emanations, appear in the back- 
ground, which naturally enough seek 
obscurity and fear discovery, consider- 
ing their character and sou ce. For 
if conscious, they could but feel that oth- 
ers, primitively, no better than them- 
selves, have usurped their places, depriv- 
ing them of the fine polish of reason, as 
Capable of hearing and then refining as 
rich ore from its own mine as could be 

dug elsewhere, which the author has 
brought to be recoined, making it as it 
were a mint. Reason is in reality the 
mine which yields only gold or silver. 
But to pursue the analogy, we must 
confess that in connection with the oth- 
er faculties, it is a mint, but from its lo- 
cation and the peculiar dies and stamps, 
better adapted to coin its own native 

It is seldom enquired whence came 
this flow of thought and rich imagery 
and these bold metaphors ; fortunate 
for the speaker or writer that it is not. 
And yet, should you attempt to entrap 
him, you will in most cases fail. He 
is safe, for the most are cunning enough, 
to clothe their purloinings in a new 
dress, or perhaps slightly enlarge the 
substance, so that with all, it would be 
difficult to recognize their counterparts 
should you .ever meet with them. 

Some are so bold as to give you real 
"dried specimens" without acknowled- 
ing the author. Of such I envy not the 
the glory. Others will frankly own 
their non-originality, by placing the in- 
verted commas. This method, by 
which the most brief essay becomes 
thick set with the upturned and the • 
doubled marks, not to say anything of 
the bad appearance it presents, is un- - 
wise. It is too honest, and such a pro- 
duction commands less attention. The 
reader preferring to go to the books 
whence these interpolations were 
brought, and there read them as they 
stand in their own context, un wrested 
and ungarbled. 

It may seem unjust and a misrepre- 
sentation thus -fo charge our writers and 
speakers with downright or least com- 
parative plagiarism. Perhaps, I have 



exaggerated the case. But it is, I dare 
afirm, true in a degree. That I may 
not be misunderstood, let me say it 
plainly. It is the too great nse of books 
that we wish to condemn. Reading to 
the exclusion of thinking abstractedly. 
It is impossible to read a book without 
o-aiuina: some ideas from it; for other- 
wise reading is good for nothing. But 
we are apt to read too much, to get too 
many ideas extraneously. To what an 
extent they are dependent on others for 
their ideas, many are altogether un- 
conscious. Having read much, they 
must treasure up some. Time passes 
on and authors are forgotten, but, their 
sentiments remain, deeply imbedded in 
the new soil. Whence, they are gath= 
ered when occasion requires, without 
thinking whether they are native or 

The not yet fully grown youth, when 
first he begins,' perchance, to enlighten 
his fellows, by words of wisdom ; or 
when reluctantly he writes a composi- 
tion for his inexorable pedagogue, not 
unfrequcntly is utterly amazed, at his 
own performance and no little delight- 
ed, with his rich thoughts and noble 
sentiments, his bold figures and striking 
similes. How many, think you, are 
purely original and how many derived 
from his former reading though not ex- 
tensive ? And he too will acknowledge 
it to himself, in maturer years, and 
laugh at his deception. It is then, he 
finds, he is not that prodigy of original- 
| ity, he once thought he was. 

Originality in thought, often seems 

very doubtful ; but seems rather a vague 

generality, a chimera in mind, a name 

without an existence. Apply the case 

p to yourself Friend. How many times 

have you exercised that mind of yours, 
thinking and thinking deeply ? Then, 
perhaps, fully confident of the inward na- 
tivity of your deductions, you rest assur- 
ed no other person has such thouo-hts. 
But alas! you go to some public meeting, 
or hear some discussion on that particu- 
lar subject wiih which you w< j re occu- 
pied, or perchance you open the leaves 
of some book, new or old, when to your 
surprise and chagrin, you hear or see, 
your own thoughts vividly portrayed. 
Let me then, in sympathy with you, 
cry as the Wise man of old : " There is 
nothing new under the sun." Let us 
carry the idea farther. It is not un- 
common, that two men have claimed 
the same invention, when it was impos- 
sible for the one to have gotten the idea 
from the other. In philosophy, there 
are cases of disputed priority of claims, to 
discovery of some important fact. 

We have said there were those who 
are not conscious of purloining. On 
the other hand there are those who 
must be fully conscious of it, but who 
claim originality. It is said that mod- 
ern infidelity, which has apparently un- 
dergone a change, is the very same with 
that of a previous age. Irving gives 
us a sketch on the "art of book-mak- 
ing," in which he relates an instance 
coming under his own observation. — 
This fully exemplifies our position, and 
it may not be amiss to repeat it here 
briefly. In his rambles, he found him- 
self in a room occupied by quite a num- 
ber of men pale and haggard. Here, 
perfect silence reigned throughout, save 
the incessant scratching of the plying 
pen, or that now and then one rang the 
bell, when a familiar appeared to whom 
he would deliver a scrap of paper with 



something written upon it. Taking it 
the servant would go out, but soon re- 
turn wilh an armful of books. Such 
was the character of the scene, and so 
m\sterious, that our narrator, was won- 
derfully excited in curiosity. Upon in 
quiring ; of one of the familiars, he learned 
that this was none other than the great 
the British Library, and these men, so 
busily engaged, veritable authors and 
were now in the very process of book- 
making. So extensive a business is 
probably rare, but there are many such 
places in miniature. Every writer's 
sanctum sustains an atmosphere more 
or less impregnated with unnatural and 
foreign ingredients, t-mittin^ a peculiar 
effluvium, arising from ancient and mod- 
em compounds, adulterated by a small 
precipitate of his own brain. 

Verily the minds of men are becom- 
ing more and more conservatories for 
the preservation and farther growth of 
the already full g<own tra sp antings 
from the fields of reason and ideal gar- 
dens of their more industrious prede 
cessors. O Titii'S, to what hast thou 
brought us! O Age of Progress, to 
what art thou advancing! Is mind no 
longer true? Is it thus soon exhausted ? 
We thought it was for eternity. La 
ment, ye Muses, the sad des lation 
which pervades the nature of the off- 
spring of thy immort i! sons ! Ca ope 
inspire anew thy bards, an \ th u also, 
Thalia. Clio give thy devoted sons 
truth and moderation, and retrain their 
bounds. We pray thee also curtail their 
number, or give tuem ability to write 
as becomes historians. Many 'of them 
run wild, and think to write of what 
has been, but to ex;>'e-*s wliat nrght be 
or what ought to have been. 

We are not willing to believe that 
the Creator has in these latter days, 
'stinted tta genius of man. No, the evil 
lies in himself. Our own resources are 
ample if only brought into action. Nor 
does nature leave us without witness of 
her great gifts, her capabilities and 
grand displays. Now and then one 
will yet arise, who, spurning the habit- 
ual hot bed process, stands on his own 
resources, and reaps abundantly an al- 
most spontaneous harvest ; rich and full 
ripe. These cpen their ">wn vei ns and 
pour forth from the inmost recess of 
the heart, glowing crimson and living 
streams. Eloquence flows apace. Pen- 
etration guides their steps. Reflection, 
deep not dull, intense not slack, is al- 
ways ready with a bountiful supply and 
might with ease overflow each stream 
a d brook and rivulet, which finds a 
source within. 

Education, we are told, means literal- 
ly and by deiivation not the diawing 
out, but rather the putting in. So one 
would think, but from a glauce fivm 
the University to the Common School. 
We do not say. that this is false, 
for then f he world of Professors 
and pedagogues would be down upon 
us. But we dare to say, that men fol- 
low in practice too closely, what a mere 
word expresses. 

We hold that there is in man a latent 
energy, a hidden power, implanted, by 
his Creator, which was intended to bo, 
and must be the true engine of expan- 
sion of the mind, though, I grant there 
are aids to the full development of it. 
A d these, if widely and moderat ely em- 
ployed give an im: etns to the native 
force. Besides those which are fund sh- 
ed directly by the Creator, man has .ur- 



nished some himself. We refer to the 
writings of men. But here we would 
caution the reader. Dr. Sprague, an 
eminent divine of the present age, says 
" the legitimate design of eadiug is not 
to supercede, but to assist reflection ; 
not to put the faculties to sleep, but to 
brighten them." N ed we remark, that 
from the practice of very many, sucli 
seems their belief, or at least the result 
shows in their case, the full accomplish- 
ment "fall that is deprecated by the rev- 
erend gentleman. 

Perhaps, we cannot close this article 
better than by giving an extract from 
an unpublished manuscript or rather 
a letter in our possession. It provides 
a plain and simple remedy for this 
growing evil of which we have been 
tre? ling. Our reasons for quoting are, 
that it is 'exac ly to the purpose at 
■which we aim, and further more, the 
original seems far belter than we coulu 
give it in substance. The writer, we 
may stale is a man of at least some re- 
putation. Of his sound good sense we 
will let his words speak tor him. 

" It is not from books only that the 
mind is strengthened aud knowledge 
is gained. Books are useful, but books 
are rather the guides and the helps 
than the substitute for thought. Books 
may furnish facts they may serve as 
guides to thoughts, and as helps, but it 
is from its own exercises that the mind is 
to gain its highest qualifications for use- 
fulness. Eminent men have been made 
bo more by what they have wrought 
out for themselves than by what they 
have gained by reading. By reading 
we gather up what others have said and 
done. Bv training the mind to reflec- 
tion, we have a fountain within ourselves 

from which we can draw at pleasure. — 
It is said of Webster that a large share 
of his preparations even in the most 
important cases were made, while walk- 
ing or recreating himself. Samuel Dex- 
ter, one of the most eminent lawyers in 
Massachusetts rarely consulted books 
much in framing his arguments. He 
dug out iron] the resources of his own 
mind. The mind should be taught to 
lean upon itself, the forge out and ar- 
range its own thoughts. Books may 
be used as helps, but the stamina of 
matter should come from within the 
mind itself. Let the mind be active, 
a'ways busy, trained habitually to be . 
gathering or preparing something for 
present or future use. Not that it 
should be always on the stretch of a 
mathematical proposition, but a coiner 
of thoughts such as circumstances may 

These suggestions of a friend, which, 
since I began to write this article, re- 
curred to my mind, seem to us sound 
and cogent, and well woithy attention. 
We hope also that we have ourselves 
said something to the point. If so, 
kind reader, we trust you may profit 
thereby, and if, perchance, you become 
an author or orator, may the laurels 
that deck your brow be wholly your 
own. And may all that read or hear, 
acknowledge with one consent " here is 
an original mind." 






My thoughts are ever wandering to one loved 

spot of earth. 
For on it, in a moment's time, my sweetest 

hopes had birth ; 
And there all my soul's affections now centre 

in one form, 
And grow, with every breath of life, more ar- 
dent and more warm. 
For the dear object of my love hath a bosom 

warm and true, 
And moves, as moves a ray of light, an angel to 

my view ; 
AU fashioned out so beautiful, and with a form 

so light, 
To see her is to see at once all that can give 


Her image now rests on my heart, and there 

will ever stay, 
For here her life is to my life what to the year 

is May ; 
Her smiles are life's May blossoms, and her 

breath is their perfume, 
E'er yielding joys that cheer the most in dark- 
ness and. in gloom. 
And, oh, my heart has been in tune since first 

I saw her face, 
And sings as sings a Canary caged in some 

sweet lovely place ; 
And tfco' her absence gives me pain, there's 

sunshine in my heart, 
The memory of her loveliness will never let 


Her very being seems to be a portion of my 

And she has won so much of mine, the balance 

none would own ; 
I'm hers, abroad, at home, in thought, in body, 

heart and soul, 
And she is mine, I'm sure she is, beyond this 

world's control ; 
For happy visions of the past, 'round our mutual 

spirits twine, 
And bind us fast as one to kneel forever at 

love's shrine. 
So e'en in broken slumbers, bright thoughts to 

each are given, 
Of the other, as on we roam to meet at last in 


Nay,— I never shall forget her, this lovely child 

of earth, 
Whose heart is full of tenderness, as are her 

eyes ofmirth, 
And glow with that intelligence that gives a sua- 

sive power, 
To draw and bind all hearts to hers, thro' every 

changing hour, 
'Till they cower down as supplicants and wor- 
ship at her feet, 
The beauty of her graceful charms where e'er 

they chance to meet, 
Acknowledging she's queen o'er them with a 

loyalty sublime, 
A star to guide them on their way while pil- 
grims here through time. 




Oral language is the utterance of ar- 
ticulated sounds made significant by 
usacre, for the expression and communi- 
cation of sentimeut and feeling. With 
the scrmo corporis of Cicero, as applied 
to man, or nafrm/71anguage, as applied 
to irrational creatures, we have now 
nothing to do. We mean by language, 
articulated speech, and restrict it to in- 
telligent beings. But whence comes 
this mysterious vehicle of intercourse 
between man and man ? Was it the 
invention of man, originating in his ne- 
cessities ? Was it the spontaneous re 
suit of man's organization, just as rea- 
son is ? Or was it given directly to 
Adam, by the living voice of God ? We 
think the last is the true theory. We 
believe that God not only gave Adam 
the organs of articulation, but actually 
taught him the use of those organs, and 
we base our faith on the teachings of 
both Physiology, and the Bible. 

Man is an imitative being. The dis- 
position to imitate is peculiarly observa- 
ble in little children. The child walks 
erect because it sees others walk ; it 
exercises the complex muscles of articu- 
lation in speaking, because it hears its 
voma or mother speak. Hence we af- 
firm that language is wholly imitative. 
No ona ever spoke who did not hear 
another speak. We see this clearly 
demonstrated in the congenitally deaf, 
who are always dumb no matter how 
Vol. Ill— 33. 

perfect may be all their organs of speech. 
The history of a few wild men, who 
have been domesticated, also illustrates 
this physiological fact. They emit nat- 
urally the sounds of pleasure or pain, 
but they never articulate one word, till 
taught with great care. Herodotus 
narrates that Psamitiehus, King of 
Egypt, in a contest with the Phrygians 
concerning the original language.order- 
ed two infants to be so reared, that they 
should never hear the human voiae. — 
While thus isolated, the only sound 
these little unfortunates ever uttered 
was b e e-k, the natural language of tha 
g'oat, that gave them nourishment. And 
this we doubt not would be the result of 
every such experiment. Children nev- 
er originate articulate sounds ; they but 
imitate them, and, a colony of a thou- 
sand infants, would never invent a lan- 
guage. They could not while children, 
from a want of intellectual development, 
and if it were sot invented while they 
were children it never could be, because 
of the rigidity their muscles would as- 
sume. Moreover, Moses records that 
Adam had a language, nay an articu- 
late language, from the first. Of whom 
did he learn this language ? H» had 
no voma. He had no companion but 
God, and the inference is direct, that 
God taught him to speak. The Bible 
tells us God talked with Adam, Eve, 
and Abel. How did he talk with 



them ? • Was it in the thund< -r, by the 
whirlwind, or in tlie ocean's roar ? — 
Through none of his creations did he 
converse with man, but with an audi- 
ble voice, as man talks to man, with 
a voice adapted to the sense of the 
hearers, as the Holy Spirit spoke at 
Christ's baptism. Language, then, is 
clearly not the invention of man, and 
if our reasoning be legitimate the se- 
cond hypothesis, i. e., that language is 
the result of man's organization, is also 
disproved of. But let us examine this 
second hypothesis farther. The argu- 
ment in support of it, is thus forcibly 
presented by Prof. Fouler. "The soul 
is adapted to any part of the body, to 
the tongue as well as to the hand. In 
thus creating the soul to act in and 
through the body, the Deity conferred 
en man, from the first, the power of 
speech, so that language is the result of 
bis constitution. Hence human na- 
ture and human speech are inseparable." 
We confess this is a very plausible hy- 
pothesis and more beautiiully scientific 
than the one we advocate. But do the 
facts sustain this position ? If human 
nature aud human speech be insepara- 
ble, why is it that the wild man of the 
woods does not speak ; and yet he must 
have a soul, and that soul is adapted to 
his body. Why is it that the deaf, 
though their minds may be -highly cul- 
tivated, even where there is most emo- 
tion in the soul, and it seems that lan- 
guage would spontaneously burst forth, 
never utter a syllable? The facts do 
not sustain the hypothesis, and we re- 
turn to our original premise that lan- 
guage is the direct gift of God. 

Having thus disposed of oral, we pro- 
<c&ed to written language. This ha^en- 

erally been reckoned, by both ancients 
and#noderns, the invention of man. — 
Many of the oriental nations suppose 
Seth, the third son of Adam, to have 
been the inventor of written language — 
the Greeks and Romans ascribed it to 
the Phenicians, while the Egyptians 
zealously contested that honor with the 
people of Phenicia. Modern philoso- 
phers suppose the invention to have 
been progressive. 

Perhaps the first method of repre- 
senting thought to the eye, was by mon- 
umental structures, pillars, or even piles 
of rough stones. A superior and later 
mode was that of rude and simple pic- 
turing, similar to the paintings and 
carvings of the North American Iu- 
dians, next from abbreviated pictures 
came naturally hieroglyphics, then alle- 
gorical symbols, and these last signs be- 
came arbitrary characters, representing 
ideas or words. These last characters 
are considered in two senses, and are 
supposed to have formed the direct ba- 
sis of alphabetic writing. In one kind 
of character, the sign w.s merely that 
of sound, and its combinations, the signs 
of sounds; in the other the h racter 
was considered the sign of an idea and 
its combinations did not correspond with 
any combinations of oral language, but 
were representatives of combinations of 
ideas. Such is the ecfived theory of 
progression, as well as we can compre- 
hend it. This series of gradations ap- 
pears natural, from the rude picture, 
perhaps to the allegorical s\ mbol, but 
we most certainly think, the connection 
between allegorical symbols and arbitra- 
ry characters r presenting both ideas 
and sound-. L a hiatus, difficult to be 
supplied. Moreover, ti ero are other 


arguments against tins progressive the- 
ory of human iuventiou. In the first 
place, we have no authentic account ot 
an independent discovery of alphabetic 
■writing, but we have no instance of a 
nation in perfect ignorance of it, and 
employing a system of writing, which 
wholly incapacitates taeiu, from ever 
adopting the alphabetic system-. We 
aliude to the Chinese. And yet the 
Chinese system originated in hiero 
glyphics, and progressed from the sim- 
ple picture to the arbitrary mark. The 
next objection arises from the very great 
difficulty of the invention. We mu-t 
suppose the inventors to have decom- 
posed the sounds of words not only into 
Syllables, bm letters, observing at the 
same time the division of syllables and 
directing the inflections by appro- 
priate marks. To accomplish these and 
other things as intrinsically difficult con- 
nected with language, requires a degree 
of patient experiment, examination amo 
generalization, which we cannot ascribe 
to the human intellect in a rude state ot 
Society. But, perhaps, the strongest 
argument against the human origin of 
written language, is that all the known 
alphabets of the world seem to have had 
one common origin. Taking all these 
objections into consideration, we cannot 
receive this progressive theory with a 
great degree of credence, and will ad- 
duce another, which perhaps is more 

Tis very probable, that the first five 
books of the Old Testament are prior in 
antiquity to,»ny other known produc- 
tions, the claims of the orientals to the 
contrary notwithstanding. The Vedas 
of the Brahmins, have been thought by 
some to have been written before the 
Pentateuch, but there is no historical 
proof in support of the opinion. It was 
the decided opinion of that very eru- 
dite man, Sir William Jones, who cer- 
tainly was a good judge in oriental lit- 
erature, that the writings of Moses were 
the oldest m the' world. The first au- 
thentic mention of the art of writing is 
in the xvn chapter o Exodu w ere 
Moses is commanded to write a certain 
event in a book, and soon afterwards 
we read that the law was written on two 
tablets of stone, by the hand of Jeho- 
vah bim-eif. It is hence probable that 
written language was about this time, 
a subject of revelation to Moses. The 
proof for the ditine origin of written 
language, we don't think, however, so 
conclusive as that for oral lanomacre. 

We know Messrs. Editors, we may 
not claim ihe interest of novelty for the 
sp c i a ions advanced in this article, 
nor would we lae troubled you with 
them, had it not been for a peculiar 
circumstance, and a disposition to re- 
spond to the very courteous invitation 
extended to this institution last term. 
T. H. P. 
Wake Forest Col lege, March 18, 1854. 




Death comes in the golden prime of youth, 

When hopes of coming years, 
Float round the heart like lovely truth ' 

And n le away those fears. 
That sometimes waked within his breast, 

Them now he bids depart, 
For hope is now the chosen guest, 

That lingers round his heart ; 
But Death cares not for his gilded hopes, 
He lajte him low ere its first blossom opes, 

Death comes in the strength of manhood's day, 

When full of cares and toils, 
-And sweeps him with ruthless hand away, 

From his treasured goods and spoils. 
Though the gentle wife, and children dear, 

May weep for the loved and lost, 
He heedeth not the briny tear, 

"This is transgression's cost." 
Tis mine to darken the world's sad path, 
And speak to man of his Maker's wrath. 

Death comes when the locks are turning white, 

When the step grows sad and slow, 
When the world so glorious, fair and bright, 

Seems but an idle show. 
O death comes then but we look for him, 

For the heart is growing cold, 
And we think as we hear the worldly din, 

Our heart for the strife is bold. 
Thus Death who brings so much of grief, 
Will give to the suffering sure relief. 

Death comes when the babe smiles lovingly, 

Upon his mother's breast, 
And he steals its soft breath stealthily, 

In its sweet, quiet rest. 
We look on its fair, its polished brow, 

Pure from its Maker's hand, 
And we inwardly feel, ! Death not now, 

Break not our household band. 

But the " King of Terrors" sees unmoved, 
The tear-drops fall from our best beloved. 

Death comes when the fair and lovely bride, 

First wears her orange bloom, 
And tears away her fond hearts pride, 

And lays him in the tomb. 
How very soon are the joys of time, 

Snatched from our eager hands, 
They withering point to the heavenly climes, 

Of the holy sainted bands, 
! death thou messenger stern, severe, 
Thou often bringest us words of cheer. 

Death comes when the children kneel at prayer, 

Beside the mother's knee, 
There the blossoms of love are blooming fair, 

'Tis a saddening sight to see 
That mother's dear cheek grow pale and wan, 

Her eye grow deep and bright, 
And feel that her work is well nigh done, 

By her dark eyes dreamy light. 
But 'twas vain, for she gently fell asleep, 
Tho' her cherished fond ones round her weep. 

Death comes when the weary long for rest, 

When all the world looks dark, 
When suffering heaves the troubled breast, 

And tossing is the bark. 
But he seems not like a monster, then, 

Nor gloomy is the grave, 
For death was robbed of his triumph when, 

The Saviour died to save. 
Thus we enter through the darksome gate, 
To the city where saints and pilgrims wait. 




College Lions. — College, it has truly 
beerv said, is a world in minature. In 
this -«mall sphere, we have our several 
gradations, as definitely and distinctly 
marked out as in the busy world around 
us. Nor is it to be wondered at. Coming 
from, different parts of the country, repre- 
senting divers opinions and various char- 
acters, we meet as strangers. Similar 
pursuits and duties, each undergoing the 
same mental discipline, will to a degree 
caste our characters into a common 
mould. Circumstances will form charac- 
ter. Like pursuits will bring like results. 
Minds, however, naturally constituted or 
impressed by tuition, will conform to cir- 
cumstances acting continually and direct- 
ly upon them, and ere long a character 
will be formed, temporary or lasting, the 
immediate result of the existing circum- 
stances, bearing the impress of the mould 
in which they have been formed. 

We cannot say that the student charac- 
ter is marked by any peculiar trait, differ- 
ing materally from the world at larire, but 
rather to a great degree, he apes the man 
of the world, wishing thus no doubt to 
appear rnanish, even while in his teens. — 
We have here our book-worms, our poli- 
ticians, bodi of society and college at 
large, whose skill at " lo^-rolling," would 
do honor to a member of Congress. We 
have also our dandy and ladies man, our 
literary braggadocio, who prates greatly 
of " mind and matter," and shows a 
scarcity of both. He always reasons ac- 
cording to Whately and brings some an- 
tiquated author to prove his assertions. 
Then there is our foppish braggadocio, 
who thinks rather more of matter than 

mind, and spends more miod on self than 
on his studies; indeed Harper seems rath- 
er to h ive •' took-or? " this portion of our 
little community, when representing .he 
youth who had turned his whole mind to 
the particular tie of his cravat. Then we 
have our wits — College wits, what inter- 
minable bores. Perhaps all our readers 
have never been compelled to listen for 
hours to a College wit, and therefore are 
not Me fully to sympathize with us. — 
To have the worn out expressions of Dow 
Jr. and ajor Jones, and what is worse 
occasionally an original anecdote, to be 
continually recited to you by a compan- 
ion, who flatters himself that either you 
have not read or heard them or that you 
are pleased by the peculiar manner of 
telliig them, is Procrustean in the ex- 
treme. Then we have our musicians. — 
Any student who can scrape "Days of 
Absence " on a violin, or whose lungs are 
sufficiently strong to enable him to make 
more noise than one pig under a gate, on 
a flute, or who can imagine by any 
hallucination whatever that he possesses 
a musical voice, thinks himself a prodigy, 
shortly to rival the best operatic perform- 
ers. He subscribes to the "Musical 
World " and inflicts on College his "food 
of love," causing us to exclaim with 
Saxe : 

What suffering harp is this we hear? 
What jarring sounds invade the wounded ear? 
Who o'er the lyre a hand spasmodic flings, 
And grinds harsh discord fron the tortured 

strings ? 
The Sacred Muses at the sound dismayed, 
Retreat disordered to their native shade, 
And Phoebus hastens to his high abode, 
And Orpheus frowns to hear an " Orphic Ode !" 



And (similar to society at large, which 
we closely intimate, each of the several 
•pheres of student life, has it leaders, or 
in common parlance, its lions. To rise to 
the enviable position of a leader in some 
of the different gradations seems to be 
the grand desideratum, the ultima thule 
of all collegians of sufficient brains to give 
them a decent share of self- pride. The 
means employed and the manner of pro- 
cedure, are as different as the ends to be 
accomplished are various 

And to carry the comparison of student 
life still farther with that of the world, 
and to illustrate how exactly we ape our 
seniors, we will add that the college-lion. 
like thatofthe world-lion, is generally un- 
deserving of the position, placed there and 
sustained by worshipping sycophants, 
who suppose thty have found in their 
particular favorite something half divine, 
a modern demKgod. But perhaps this 
point may be shown by illustrating the 
modus operandi of some of these college 

The lion of the recitation room, is not 
as a matter of course the best scholar oi 
the hardest student, but one who obtains 
the reputation for the former, and not ac- 
cused of the latter. And nothing is more 
easy. He has only to get his friends to 
talk of him out of the room, and the Pro- 
fessor to praise him in it. and he becomes 
at once a jewel of the first water. He is 
heralded to his fellow-students as a men- 
tal prodigy, a living grammar of the an- 
cient languages, modestly bound to be 
sure, but rich in — reputation. 

And here we might add that in this 
speaking season, nothing is wanted to ac- 
quire a college reputation but a little pa- 
tience to enable you !o hunt out some lit- 
erary production of a great deal of merit 
and by a few interpolations of your own 
reduce it to a very good^jraduating speech, 
and :-oon it will he reported about college 
that you have the best speech of the I in& 
that has been written here for years. It 

needs but the approving commendation of 
the faculty, to make you a college lion, 
nay, a student hero. You appear on the 
stage and receive the kind smiles ef the 
ladies and the loud applause of the men, 
for the rehearsal of an extract, changed 
to suit the occasion and for the sake ©f 
concealment, of a speech that drew forth 
the plaudits in the House of Lords, or per- 
haps taken from the writings of some 
man, whose name ia immortalized by the 
work from which it is extracted. Yet the 
truly deserving student, who writes his 
own speech, as if h had for four years 
been a member of the College, leaves \he 
stage "unhonored and unsung." 

Our politicians and dandies have no 
traits differing from those of the world. 
The former profess one thing and do an- 
other, or profess every thing and do noth- 
ing, their only object is to obtain votes 
for an office they have been compelled 
to run for at the earnest solicitations of 
friends. Tbe latter dress very finely and 
owe their tailor. They make it conveni- 
ent to occupy the conspicuous seats in the 
f'hapel at public gatherings, where they 
can be seen by the ladies, and if the exhi- 
bition is free they will always gallant a 
lady to it. 

But perhaps the most self-important li- 
on among us is the literary braggadocio. 
He has an air of haughtiness about him that 
strikes terror, intermingled with reverence 
for cultivated genius, among those who 
only hear him talk of what he has read 
and written. He generally sustains his 
opinions on all subjects by a remark, he 
remembers from seme author whose name 
is only not impossible to pronounce, and 
of whose wok he has not the remotest 
idea. The liierary lion always hints to 
members of a different Society from which 
he belongs, of a great essay or eloquent 
speech, which he has lately recited before 
his Hall, or throws out vague insinuations 
of what he has done in his club room, or 
smiles very knowingly when accused o r 



writing some article in the Magazine, 
which takes very well. In this manner 
he soon gets the reputation of being a 
walking encyclopcedia. 

Of the foppish braggadocio, we have 
but little to say, and indeed, much cannot 
be s ; iid, tor little encm passes the whole 
suhject. He is fond of and makes it a 
point to declaim, in every crowd, his ses- 
sion's expenses, and especially the amount 
foolishly squandered. The more he spends 
and the oftener he speaks about it, the 
greater lion he becomes among the recipi- 
ents of his favors. He is handed down 
to future collegians, the only name he will 
ever leave, as one of the finest fellows 
that ever was at the institution. 

ten party, they will amuse you and your 
musical taste also. 

There is one other race of lions in our 
little community whom we came near 
slighting, perhaps it occurred from the 
desire that we wish they would always 
slight us. This species of the animal >s 
more numerous and deservedly so, though 
this lionship is less desired than any oth- 
er. We refer to the College bore. We 
would give a description of this abundant 
species, but one has just entered our 
room, and writing must be suspended. — 
Such istttudent life and College ambition. 

Col!.ege Poetry. — Glancing through 
the passes 01 our protege, we have gather- 
ed many valuable hints which we should 

The wits of College, are perhaps the 
most gaseous persons imaginable. They j like to P ,esent t0 our re:,der ' but the iinv 
are found in every crowd with a great 5ts of our " t!,b,e " wiU not P cmlit > s0 vv< 

deal of foreign wit and a superabundance 
of original nonsense, attempting to amuse 
their fellows. 

We do not wish to be understood as 
implying there are not good wits in Col- 
lege, and their humor and cqmicalness are 
'fully appreciated by their frionds, but we 
have reference to those who place them- 
selves up as the wits or' College, lions in 
the art. \oihinL T is more easily obt^i^ed 
than a high reputation in this particular 
branch of College character, as qualifica- 
tions are not taken into consideration, the 
most unqualified are those who generally 
consider themselves modern iSheridans. — 
You have' only to get some influential 
friends to be present in all public gather- 
ings and collected groups of the students 
aud to loudly applaud every sentence you 
utter, a. id the -lesser lights" will take it 
for uranted that what you said was very 
wi;ty, and as a matter of course you are 
a great wit. Protect us from the Savour- 
ing jaws of nueh lions. 

Ail we think necessary to mention con- 
cerning the musical lions, is to give no- 
tice to the young ladies, that they are 
very fine fellows to i.ivite to an evening 

ust be contented with a few desultory 
remarks on College Poetry or rather our 
Magazine poetry, for we refer to such on- 
ly as has been honored with a place in 
its columns. 

Thi first feature which attracts our at- 
tention is the exceeding abundance of 
love which seems to fill the hearts, heads 
and tongues of the young poets, for four- 
fifths at least of the poetry which has ap- 
peared in the Magazine eonsists of love- 
sick songs, hut we must sa. erily there is 
but little s>ng among them. This may 
speak well for the good natuu of the 
youths, but at the same time it says but 
little for their heads. Love, it cannot be 
denied, is in the hands of a real poet a 
most fruitful theme, yet in (he hands of 
some of the Magazine poets it has dwin- 
dled down to the very sorriest rhyme. 
Many of them seem never to have read, or 
at least, never to have appreciated and 
taken to heart ihese truthful lines of some 
sage bard who«e name has at present es- 
caped onr memory : 

" To be seized with the mania and not with 

the Muse 
Is quite as bad as to be without shoes." 



The only manner in which we can ac- 
count for it, is that they are mostly young 
men and revelling for the fiist time in that 
feeling which " makes fools of wise men, 
and poets of fools." 

The first piece we noticed was the first 
lines in the first number of the first vol- 
ume, addressed to Miss , by Claude 

we quote one verse as a sample: 

At early dawn we're often strayed, 

Along the meadows green, 
At summer's eve, beneath the shades, 

The lovely flowers to glean. 

Smart couplet that ! We would like 
to know if Claude ever 'snapped? prayers. 
But we leave him lo " glean flowers" and 
scribble rhymes, and pass on to other sigh- 
ing swains. 

The next we shall notice is a rich trea- 
sure, " a gem of the first water." It, too, 
is an amatory address and one verse reads 
thus : 

"When the east with silver hue, 
Is crimsoned by the rising sun ; 

In fancy then thy charms I view, 
And think of thee, clearest one !" 

Mark how like the fluttering and flap- 
ping of sheets on a clothes line in the 
wind, the nimble numbers prance along. 
Was there ever an exclamation more nat- 
ural than "O, dearest one !" since the days 
of that immortal bard who wft-ote — 

Oh Luna, thou art the moon and thou Sol, the 
The lightning flashed, and the thunder rolled, 
The cows Mcled up their heels and run. 

We should like to make many other ex- 
tracts and remarks upon a number of po- 
ems, which can upon their intrinsic merits 
elaim the rank and name, but the Maga- 
zine poetry upon the whole belongs to 
that school by Poe called Frog-pond-ians, 
of whichji in his day Bobby Button was 
the leader. 

Well may each of our College pollings 
in earnest exclaim, what in jest the noble 
Burn* has written: 

I am nae poet; in a sense, 

But just a rhymer, like, by chance 
And hae to learning no pretense. 

As an admoni ion to future supplicants 
at the shrine of ihe muses, we recommend 
to each before they attempt to show their 
devotion in verse to read and take to 
heart the beautiful lines from a well- 
known nursery volume : 

" There was a piper had a cow, 
And he had naught to give her; 
He took his pipe and played a tune, 
" Consider" cow, "consider!" 

The following linev were handed to us 
by a friend who says that they were writ- 
ten by a lady. The lines are good, but 
the descriptions are most too brief and 
rapid, there is too hasty change of the 
elements, but read : 

Warm and sultry is the night, 

No gentle breeze is passing near: 

Nature reposes mourniully, and 

All is dark and still — 

But listen ! What is that? 

Did you not hear a sound ? 

Is it thunder ? Is it the voice of 

God's wrath borne o'er the earth 

Bidding sinful man to repent? 

Listen! Again I hear that low murmuring sound? 

Fly to your nests ye birds, to your dens ye beasts, 

And thou man be still, — 

The storm-king is abroad 

Traversing the earth on his mighty steed. 

And now, the scene is changed, 
The moon, "bright queen of the night," 
Smiles majestically, — and she seems bidding 
The storm depart. 
The earth rejoices and gladly sings. 



We have been shown a rare folio vol- 
ume, in Latin printed afrFrankfort, in Ger- 
many, ;\. D. 1590, containing a historj of 



the first and second expeditions, fitted out 
by Sir Walter Raleigh to the toast of 
North Carolina in 1584 ard 1686. It con 
tains two curious maps of the coast, and 
about twenty other very beautiful engrav- 
ings of ihe Indians, their costume's, cus 
toms, and plans of their towns. It would 
he difficult at the present day to find ar- 
tists who could excel these engravings. 
The Book is Hariot's Account of Virginia, 
and a copy of one of the charts of the 
volume can be seen in Wheeler's History. 
If contains uch curious information with 
regard to the manners and customs of ihe 
Indians, the products of the soil, and con- 
dition ot the country. 

We were struck, on glancing over this 
book, to ascertain the high state of culti- 
vation to which t e Indians had attained. 
Before the advent of the white discover- 
ers, their'* must have been happy lives — 
undisturbed by foes, in the enjoyment of 
their wild pleasures, favored with a geni- 
al clime, a productive soil, and waters 
abounding in fish. It was a Paradise to 
the s vage 

The expedition arrived off the coast, in 
the ytar 1585, more than thirty years he- 
fore the settlement of the Pilgrims at Ply- 
mou'h, and more than twenty years be- 
fore the advent at Jamestown. The ex- 
pedition landed at P»,oanoke Island now in 
Currituck county : 


(Nokth Carolina.) — The '-oast of Virgin- 
ia abounds in islands which render the ap- 
proach to tiiat country very difficult ; for 
.although they are separated from each 
other by wide and frequent channels, 
which seem to promise a convenient in- 
gress, yei to our serious injury, we found 
them to he full of shoals, aud dangerous 
by reason of ihe scantiness of the water. 
Nor were we ever able to penetrate with- 
in, untilwe had lessened the danger to 
the ships (by examining the channels) in 
many and various places. We at length 
found a passage through an opening which 
had been thoroughly sounded by our sail- 
ors. Having entered here, and sailed 
along for some considerable time, we ob- 
served a considerable stream, which dis- 
charged itself opposite to the island above 
menu ned. We could not enter it how- 
ever on account of a sand bar which fill- 
ed its mouth. Proceeding on further, 
therefore, we came to a large island, the 
inhabitants of which, on seeing us, set up 
a frijghtfiil yell, as if they had newr be- 

fore seen such a race of men as we were, 
and scampered away like madmen or wild 
beasts. But, being invited back by our 
friendly signals, j>nd by the toys we ex- 
hibited to them, such as lookir.g-glaSsaes, 
little knives, dolls, and other trifles which 
we thought would please them, they sop- 
ped, and observing our good intentions 
and friendly dispositions, dismissed their 
apprehensions and welcomed our i ni- 
val. From thence they led us to th. ir 
city called Roanoac, and also to their We- 
rowans or chief, who received us quite 
courteously, though greatly astonished at 
our appearance. 

Such was our arrival in lhat part of the 
new world, which we call Virginia : of the 
stature of whose inhabitants— costumes, 
food, manners, social and religioun festi- 
vals, I shall severally treat. 1585 

It is very curious in examining the 
charts of this volume, lo see the great 
changes thai have take* place in the form 
of the coast. There were originally <ieep 
inlets, through one o! which the vessels 
of the xpedition pa sed into Albermarle 
Sound; these are now all closed. Places 
appear to have become transposed : Ht- 
teras. called, is not that fe rful 
cape runnimj far out into the sea as at 
the present time; while Look Out is rep- 
resented on the map as a far more dan- 
gerous point. 

The Indians had a curious method of 
preserving the dead bodies of their chiefs 
for sepulture, and we append a description 
of the modus operandi : 

Sepulchres of theih Chiefs. — 
They build a sort of scaffolding, nine or 
ten feet high, in the manner illustrated in 
this engraving, as a place of sepulture for 
their Werowans or chiefs. The floor is 
covered with a mat, and the de d bodies 
of their chiefs are pi' ced upon it in the 
following manner: First, they disembowel 
the body, then the skin is taken off, and af- 
terwards, whatever flesh there is. even to 
the bones, are dried in the sun, and when 
thoroughly dried are rolled up in a mat, 
and placed at the feet of ihe body ; after- 
wards, the hones (still clinging together 
by their ligaments, unbroken and unde- 
cayed) are wrapped in a hide, and tho 
body is so arrayed as if the flesh had not 
been taken away. Uoon this body thus 
prepared, thev fit the natural skin auaiu, 
and then place it with the bodies of their 
chief's in its order. Near to the-e. the 
Idol Kiwasa — of which we have made 



mention in a preceding chapter — is placed 
to protect them. At a liitlv distance be- 
low this scaffold, some one of 'heir pro- 
phets or sacred men has his habitation, 
who murmurs prayers by night ind day, 
and has the care of the bodies. He has 
two skins of wild beasts stretched out for 
a bed. If he is co!d. a fire is kindled by 
which he can be made warm. 

So this miserable people are taught by 
nature 'o venerate the persons of their 
chiefs, even in death. 

We gave but a hasty examination to 
this rare old work, over whose pages 264 
years had passed ; but we could not help 
frn '.king of the changes time had made 
siuce that little band of adventurers land- 
ed on Roanoke Island. Then a native 
wild the home of the savage ; now the 
proudest of 'he Governments of the earth. 
The book is the property of a gentle- 
, man of antiquarian ta-te, formerly a resi- 
dent of this town, but now of Boston. — 
There are but few copies extant, and we 
wish that one could be purchased for the 
State Library at Raleigh. Every Slate 
should possess the materials for its own 
history. There should be a 7iistnry of 
each State. Alas ! when shall the histo- 
ry of North Carolina he wri'ten ? 

Wilmington Herald. 

We have before us, by the kindness of 
a liter; ry friend, a fine copy of i he bool 
referred to in the foregoing article. It be- 
longs ;o ; he valuable and extensive col- 
lec i«m of Pet'T Force, Esq., (of Washing- 
ton City,) of works relating to American 
History. It seems to have been published 
simultaneously in English and Latin, and, 
subsequent^ in French and German. In 
Rich's Catalogue of books relating to 
America, published in 1832. (No. 71, p. 
10.) we have the following item: 

A BRIEFE AND TRUE REPORT of the new found 

land df Virginia, of the commodities, and of 
the nalhrc arid manners of the natural inhabi- 
tants, Discovered by the English colony there 
Seated by Sir Richard Grenville, knight, in 
the yeare lj>85, which remained under the gov- 
ernment of twelve months, at the special charge 
and direction of the Honorable Sir Walter Ra- 
leigh, &c. This fore booke is made in English 
by Thomas Iiariot, servant to the above named 

Sir Walter, a member of the colony, and there 
employed in discovering. 

Folio £21. Francofurti. 

"Some of the Plates are supplied from the 
Latin Edition of De Bay. The only perfect cop- 
ies known have brought £i00. The Latin 
edition forms the first, part of De Bry's Great 
Voyages, and was published also in French and 
German, both which editions are also extreme- 
ly rare." 

The title of the Latin Edition is as fol- 



NATA A C. C. A. 


Iq XC. 


The Admiranda Kar ratio 
constitutes as we have seen above, the 
first part of the magnificent collection of 
DeRrv, published at Frankfort, in nine 
parts, 2 volumes, folio in 1590. The Eng- 
lish text of Hari-tt, without the embellish- 
ments, was reproduced in 1599,, in the 3rd 
vol. of Hakluyt. A Banciof srefeic < es 
are to the bitter edition. He states that. 
the expedition of 1585, was composed of 
seven vessels, and carried 108 colonist o 
the shores of Carolina. "Ralph Lane, .a 
man o£ considerable distinction, and no 


much esteemed fur his services a* a sol- 
dier, that he was afterwards knighted by 
Queen Elizabeth, was willing to act for 
Raleigh, as Governor of ihe colony. Sir 
Richard Granville, the next ablest and most 
celebrated of Raleigh's associates, distin- 
guished for bravery among the gallant 
spirits of a gallant age, assumed the com- 
mand of the fleet. It sailed from Ply- 
mouth, accompanied by several men cf 
merit, whom the world remembers : by 
Cavendish, who sooi after circumnaviga- 
ted the globe ; Hariot, the inventor of ihe 
system of notation in modern Algebra, 
the historian of the expedition, and With, 
an ingenious painter, whose sketches of the 
natives, their habits and modes of life 
were taken with beauty and exacness, 
and were the means of encouraging an in- 
terest in Virginia, by diffusing a knowl- 
edge of its production." 

Of all the explorers connected with 
tin- expedition, Bancroft characterizes 
Hariot as "the keenest observer." — 
" He carefully examined the productions 
of the country, that which would furnish 
commodities for commerce, and 'hose 
which were in esteem among the natives. 
He observed the culture of tobacco ; ac- 
customed himself to its use. and was a 
firm believer in its heali g virtues. The 
culture of maze and the extraordinary 
productiveness of that grain, especially 
attracted his admit' tion ; and the iiiberbtts 
roots of she potato when boiled, were 
found io be very 200 ibod. The inhabi- 
tants are described as feeble to inspire 
terror; clothed in mam *>s and aprons of 
deer-skins, having no weapons but wood- 
en swords and bows of witch hazel, with 
arrows of reeds ; no armour but. tar- 
gets of bark and sticks, wickered together 
wUh thread."— His U. S. vol. 1, page 95. 

It is painful to reflect upon the keen 
curiosity, the intense delight, wi h which 
this interesting volume would have been 
scanned, by the late Judge Murphey 

while engaged in projecting his great 
scheme of Internal Improvement-, nearly 
forty ye rs a^o. Diligent enquiries and 
exten-ive examinations, in this coumry 
ami in England, resulted in discovering no 
trace of the hiding place of Hanoi's man- 
uscripts and publications. In his Memoir 
on Internal Improvements, published in 
1819, he remarks, (p. 26,) "Two ques- 
tions of late have been agitated in this 
Stat«, one whether any of the vessels of 
Sir Walter Raleigh crossed the Bar : The 
other, through what inlet his men entered 
when they came to Roanoke Island. No 
satisfactory information has been procur- 
ed upon these points, nor is it probable 
that any such information can now be had, 
without access to tne Maps and papers of 
Dr. Hariot, the astronomer who accom- 
panied Sir Walter Raleigh, and made 
chans of that part of our coast, and wrote 
an account of the expedition." These 
charts and papers, were at that time un- 
derstood to have been bequeathed to the 
University of Oxford, and the lale Peter 
Browne, Esq. then on a visit to his native 
country, was requested by the Board of 
Internal Improvements, to obtain copies. 
In the following year (1820) the Board 
reports to the General Assembly that it is 
not known, what, lias become of the papers 
of Hariot, or why the University of Oxford 
to which it is understood they were be- 
queathed has never published them. That 
Mr. Browne had made application to the 
University of Oxford, and to the Earl of 
Egremonf, in whose library they were at 
one time supposed to have been, that the 
application was politely received in both 
instances, and search made, but no pipers 
discovered; and that the B ,ard entertain- 
ed no hope of ever being able to . 
copy of the first chart, which was ever 
m-ide of our coast, a chart which would 
probably show the positioia of the Inlets 
hen on the coast, and the depth of water 
at each. 


Hamilton Fulton, Esq. State Engineer, 
in a report made to the General Assembly, 
at the same session, "on the practicability 
of opening a communication from Alber- 
marle Sound to the Atlantic Ocean," dis- 
cusser the questions proposed by Judge 
Rhirphey with ability, and examines all 
the auihorkies. upon the subject at his 
command. These were a reprinr of Capt. 
John Smith's Virginia, Siith's Virginia, 
Williamson's North Carolina, and Wim- 
ble's chart (of 1738) of ihe coast of North 
Carolina. Mr. Fulton arrives at the con- 
clusion, that there have never been more 
good inlets on the coast then than those 
exis'ing at present, that Sir Walter Raleigh 
never visited North Carolina, and that 
neither his fleet, nor the fleet of any other 
adventurer ever entered Roanoke Inlet. 

Upon the examination of these two last 
questions, the first of mere, but deep his- 
torical interest, the second of great practi- 
cal impor ance, we do not propose to en- 
ter further at present, than to bring down 
the evidence to the present time. 

H riot's chart affords satisfactory evi 
dence that one vessel at least of Sir Rich- 
ard Grenville's fleet did cross the bar 
but whether at Roanoke, or as Bancroft 
supposes, at Oer: cock inlet, we will not 
at present undertake to determine. 

Upon the former inquiry in relation to 
the visit of Sir Walter Raleigh to the an- 
cient city on the borders of the Stnte, 
whose modern capital perpetuates his 
name, we content ourselves with a citation 
from the first volume of Forces' Histori- 
es! Tracts, and a brief extract from the nar- 
a.ive of Hariot, in the volume under con- 
siders tion. 

"Exr.tct of a letter from the South Car- 
olina Gazette, dated at Charles-Town, 
22nd March, 1732. 

Mr. Oglethorpe has with him Sir Walter 
R; leigl'.'s wri ten .Journal, and by theLat- 
itude of the Place, the Marks and Tradi- 
tion- of the Indians, it is the very first 
Place, where he first went or. shore, aii$ 
ta'ked with the Indians, and was \hejirst 

Englishman they ever saw ; and about 
half a mile from Savannah, is a high . 
Mount of Earth under which lies their 
Chief King; And the Indians informed 
Mr. Oglethorpe that their King desired 
before he died, that he might be Buried on 
the Spot, where he talked wi*h .that great 
good Man. — Tract V. Index, Number 2, p. 
37. See also McCall's History of Geor- 
gia, vol. 1, p. 3. 

The Brevis et fida Narratio of Hariot 
concludes as follows: 

"De rrntura porro et ritibus indigena- 
rum Virginise, de numero nostr.rr.rn pere- 
grinationum et earum singularibus,' de il- 
lorum actionibus qui Generosum D. Wal- 
terum Raleigh in earn regionem comitati 
sunt, el aliquod munush.bnerunt, q lorum 
sane plerique digni ut eorum celebretur 
memoria, tamquam qui primi invesi.igato- 
res sunt ejus provinciae; de nosir r > turn 
temporis Imper.itore D. Richakdo Gken- 
vjlle, et de nostro, ah ejus diseessu, Pra- 
fecto Rafo Lane, aliisque paribus qui 
sub eorum imperio munere aliquo functi 
sunt; de centurionibus. et Naucleris earum 
peregrinationum, quae postea instil utae 
sunt transvehendi supplementi gratia: de 
Praefecto et assessor!! us eorum. qui jam 
ante eo .traducti fuerant, de pleris ue 
prseterea accideiitibus et aliis rebus, nar- 
rationem conscripsi Bistoriae insar,additi9 
temporum momeitis. quern publican) lu- 
cem videre permittam, cum commodum 
esse judicabo. Itaque meam Narratb<nem 
benevolo vestro j udicio permittens, er acti- 
onis prospemm eventum expect ans ab eo 
quern novimus authorcm, et gubernato- 
rem non modo hujus action's, sed eham 
omnium aliarum rerum; vobis valedico, 
hoc mense Februario anni 1588. 

We unite mostly earnestly in the desire 
expressed by the Wilmington Herald to 
see a copy of Hariot's History in the State 
Library, or what might be still better 
among the collections of the Historical 
Society of the University. For a book of 
greatly inferior interest and value, and of 
compartively modern date, Lawson's His- 
tory of North Carolina, the Library Com- 
mittee of the General Assembly, at the 
sale of the library of the late Gen. Robt. 
Williams of Raleigh, in 1821, paid $'60. 

The book might have been obtained at 




time from various sources, for about a 
5th part of the sum, and may probably be 
procured at this late day on much better 
terms, than it was bought then. The ex- 
istence of Hariot's narrative, was then not 
suspected, and Lawsan's was regarded as 
the oldest work upon the subject. This 
copy of Lawson was part of the library 
destroyed in the conflagration of the State 
House in 1831. The copy at present in 
the Sta'e library was transmitted to the 
Governor, by the late President Madison, 
immediately on receiving intelligence of 
the destruction of the former. 

Myka Ivring*.— Have you read the beau- 
tiful article from our highly favored and 
truly gifted correspondent, Myra Irving. 
We wish to call the attention of our fe- 
male readers, generally to the article, and 
having read it, we desire them to "go and 
do likewise." If the ladies wish to win 
our — highest esteem, just write us such 
pieces and we will marry the one — we 
love best, if tee can. 

To Myra we can say that the best rem- 
edy we can prescribe for the azure demons, 
is to visit our approaching Commence- 
ment, and she will find that she is held in 
such high ad-m#ra-tion, by the "dear Mes- 
srs. Editors," that she will go home with- 
out her heart — sickness. 

She is informed that her article has 
played the duce with some of our "Edito- 
rial breasts." One of the corps has become 
very love-sick and is in a rapid decline, 
and two others have had a quarrel as to 
who shall gallant Myra to the Chapel, on 
Commencement day. One concludes he 
has More right to that honor, another 
thinks he Merits the distinction, and yet 
another holds she is too much of a Belle 
for either and the rest a — a — remain silent 

For the benefit of our readers, we will 
say that, we have several articles from My- 
ra, which will appear in due season. 

* Crowded out for want of room.— Pub, 

Rev. Dr. Baied.— The Rev. Dr. Baird, 
of New York, delivered a course ot'lec- 
tures on Europe, in the Chapel, during the 
last month. To say that they were ex- 
tremely interesting and highly instructive 
would be but meagre praise. They were 
listened to with great attention by alarg e 
number of citizens and students, and at 
the close of the lectures, by motion of 
Pre.s. Swain, the unanimous vote of thanks 
was returned to Dr. Baird for his highly 
valuable and instructive lectures. 

College Sprees. — It may be wrong to 
even intimate that we have engaged in 
some "sprees" in our younger college 
day to which now we can refer baik with 
a slight degree of pleasure. Notwith- 
standing, such is the case, and yet we may 
be forgiven for the fact tnat we were only 
Fresh, or Soph. And we even suspect 
that we are now forgiven by the Profes- 
sors upon whom the " sprees," more di- 
rectly bore. We have our doubts as to 
the first to which we will refer, but as to 
the second, we think we have been par- 

Then when we say that there is connect- 
ed with the burning of Analytics many- 
pleasant recollections, we hope the trans- 
action may be over-looked by our readers 
on the ground that at the time we were 
only silly, headstrong Sophomores, consid- 
ering it of much more eclat to " devil the 
Faculty " than to recite a good lesson. — 
But we were struck or perhaps better to 
say stung with the remark of the teacher 
at the following recitation, who was truly 
"deviled," and of course we were s^is- 
fied, (does this not prove that human de- 
sires are not insatiable, or do you pretend 
to say that a Soph, is not human) when 
he told us that a child (particularly galling 
to a Soph.) could place a stick of wood 
upon a rail road track, and the consequences 
might be the loss of hundreds of lives. — 
It required no sense, skill or ingenuity to 
place it there, but the consequences were 



disastrous. He might have added anoth- 
er metaphor, very popular with a certain 
member of the faculty, with equal pro- 
priety and applicability, that a fool, who 
couid not build a hovel can destroy a 

But this is looking upon the dark side of 
the picture. It is yet pleasant to remember 
with what earnestness and secrecy we en- 
g. ged in the affair; how often ve met, 
and e ch time making a careful statement 
in regard to the number of books collect 
ed, and how many yet remainedi And 
when all were collected into a basket, we 
marched in solemn procession to t he funer- 
al pile, at dead of night. 

" treacherous night ! Thou lendest thy ready 
To every teeming mischief." 

Yes, we thotight, a plot was formed and 
carried into execution (rather modest for 
Sophs,) which would have made Ar- 
nold blush, or had Catal'me even pos- 
sessed the plan, Rome would have been a 
pile of blackened ruins. 

Well do we remember with what eager- 
ness every one pressed around the burn- 
ing pile, each stirring it up with a long 
pole, wishing we suppose to transform it 
to ashes by means of polar co-prdinates, 
(we h ive not forgotten all our Analytics, 
yet.) and the exulting shouts seem yet to 
ring in our ears, as one by one the books 
vanished into "airy nothing." and we 
thought to ourselves that this was the 
first " determinate proo 'em" of the book 
that most, of hem had ever solved, and 
which they thought, was very problemati- 
cal, viz : whether fire could have any ef- 
fect on such. ahard work. 

The following lines by our friend, Tul- 
ly Veolan, we insert as appropriate. He 
must acknowledge, if he is an admirer of 
the Muses, that Miss Ann A. Lvtics pos- 
sessed some very fine traits, for she com- 
menced very early in life to " construct 
lines" the beauty and depth of which we 
have had standing proofs. 

'Twas midnight, and the " witching hour," 

When, in the dark deep woods assembling, 
The banded Sophomores, armed with power 

Together gathered without trembling. 

The "pocket editions" together were piled, 
No more to be used in " pasing " — 

They burnt those books in the dark woods wild, 
When others were quietly sleeping. 

They piled those books with glee and joy, 
Nor thought they of the morrow — 

And with their mirth was no alloy 
For naught knew they of sorrow. 

They fired that pile with saVage glee 
And watched ihe br;ghi flames burning — 

Of all the books the Earth could see 
The hardest yet in learning. 

While speaking of early college, 
" sprees," we might as well make i\ clean 
breast of it at once, as we are soon to 
depart. There are but few, we may say 
but one among the many students at the 
University now, who was engaged in 
" The Spree" described in ihe lines be- 
low. It. was rasher a dangerous and fool- 
ish affair, but we thought innocent, and as 
before Mated thati. has been foigiven by 
the good uatured Professor, who was 
particularly " deviled" it the time. About 
the worse thing connected with the whole 
affair was the perpetration of ihe follow- 
ing, by one of the Faculiy, for which he 
has not been pardoned. When speaking 
of '-The Spree" in our hearing, he remark- 
ed if there was a standard tor agility in 
college, the young men who were en- 
gaged in it would certainly deserve 
"first" but, he immediately added, he 
expected they had a gill-otea aboard. — 
But read 

'Twas on December's wintry night, 
When Cynthia's face was shining bright, 
Some students tried with all their might, 

To raise a tittle jollity- 
Each hearty threw aside his card 
And leaped into the College yard, his back on Michael's guard 
With true heroic bravery. 



Hark! some lad wilh courage full, 
Gives the b.^ll an awful pull, 
Regardless of the threat'ning— 

That issued from the Labratory. 
And now the rattling of a wheel 
Bids all the gents, for woe or weal 
To join the Devil's fancy reel 

With becoming loyalty. . 

The rolling of the woodman's cart 
Soon seemed to be a paltry art, 
And each resolved to act a part 

Worthy the fraternity. 
The Nestor of the crowd does speak— 
"Courage, lads, be not so weak— ^ 
Let us on this wagon wreak — 

Our vengeance with impunity." 

He tells his deeds of former wars, 
And shows, with pride, his ugly scars, 
And begs Bellona, dreadful Mars, 

To animate their votaries — 
"Come, I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus I, 
Who never learned to turn and fly, 
But rather on the field te die 

Than disgrace my ancestry." 

" Let's place this waggon on the peak ' 
Of yon proud building, ere we sleep, 
Thus every single one shall reap 

A sheaf of immortality. 
Let's place a table on its base, 
And let a jug its centre grace 
Which none shall ever dare displace, 

With show of much grand company." 

" A flag shall o'er the relics wave, 
The proud mementoes of the brave, 
Till Death shall call us to the grave 

Where sleepeth frail humanity. 
And he who does this flag displace 
Shall meet Bombastes face to face, 
For never will we see disgrace 

Come upon our blazonry." 

The work Was done as soon as said, 
The heroes moved to seek their bed, 
When from the ground the Devil's head 

Popped in its majesty — 
" Begone, you dogs, begone I say, 
Why will you linger here 'till day? 
You cannot in my favor stay 

By such trifling flattery." 

{Exeunt Heroes.) 
{Devil aside,) 
"The golden days of man are gone 
And I shall see my kingdom torn. 
These flashy youths were n«ver made 

To be my trust soldiery. 

I'll hie me home and lit a place 
Where I may keep this pigmy race, 
For never, never, shall it disgrace 
The flower of my chivalry." 

Aurora now with rosy hands. 

Had flung bright light all o'er the land, 

But 'neath the flag no gallant band 

Stood firm for battlery. 
But gallant Wait at early dawn 
Had snuffed the brewing of the storm 
And boldly marched with weapon drawn 

To win a crown of victory. 

Brave Nestor's cheeks with fury glow 
His honeyed words with speed do flow 
As he bids his warriors go 
And shield the proud emblazonry. 

Come gallant Mississippi, come, 
The land of Quitman, Quittieburn, 
Remember still the glorious sun 

That rose on bloody Monterey. 
Awake, brave Tennessee renowned, 
The name of Hickory — Pillow sound. 
Awake ! Awake ! The hills resound 

With rampant war's dread revelry. 
Come Alabama ! Bagby's pride, 
The note of war sound far and wide, 
Remember Tallapoosa's tide 

Has seen your dreadful yeomanry. 
Come Rip Van Winkle, red wilh gore 
When slaughter stalked abroad of yore, 
Remember Guilford if no more 

The theme of all posterity. 

But the curling smoke has cleared away. 
Furious chargers have ceased to neigh, 
And veteran Wait has gained the day, 

Indeed a bloodless victory — 
I never shall again relate 
The firm decrees of Madame Fate 
Since now, I've robbed my scanty pate 

Reducing it to beggary. 

Commencejiknt. — Though the armouej- 
ment thai commencement will soon be 
here, make* us feel very targe, we cannot 
refrain from telling our readers it is near 
at hand, and ihai great preparations are 
being made by 'he M ir.-hals and Managers 
to accommoda e a large crowd, hiefa 
they know will co e to see such a class 
graduate. We. in the name of the class, 
extend a cordial invitation to all to come 
to our " feast of reason." 


To fathers, mothers and friends of the 
graduating class, we say, come and see 
your sons and friends receive their degree, 
and hear their 

" Thoughts that breathe and words that burn." 

And to the younger portions of the 
community, we can add still further in- 
ducements ; especially to the young ladies. 
Besides listening to the speeches of their — 
friends and enjoying the grand festivals 
in the " Assembly Room," for which, we 
are happy to statie, the corps of Managers 
havf procured the best band of music in 
the South, we can say that sixty of the 
finest looking men graduate, that have 
ever left our Alma Mater. 

Then there are half-dozen Editors to 
graduate, some of them will speak pub- 
licly, and desire to speak privately, and 
we will add for the benefit of the ladies 
that none of them are engaged, but wish 
to — ^ee you at Commencement. We ad- 
vise our citizens to prepare for a very large 
number of ladies, for they can't stay away 
after this announcement. 

The gentlemen who address us this 
Commencment are all of the first order of 
talent, and not unknown to fame, and we 
have no doubt that every thing will pass 
off in the finest style. 

Our Contributors. — I is informed that 
his verses are rejected, ha can't write po- 

Mehl has been received, but we don't 
think he can have a showing. We rather 
guess he is an old friend in disguise. Ha 
argues his point well, but the outward 
garb is too rough. If Mehl, would pay 
more attention to style, he coula gain ad- 
mission into the Magazine. He is very 
much addicted to tautology ,'indeed, this 
is his greatest tault. Try again. 

We are glad to receive a contribution 
from Wake Forest. It appears in our col- 
umns of this month. We hope that like 
favors will be continued, it will increase 
the intercourse between the two institu- 
tions, and promote a friendly feeling, 
among the students. We will be glad to 
see T. H. P. at our Commencement and as 
many more of his fellow-students as he 
can persuade to come. 

Our contributors for the last month 
show a falling off, both in quality and 
quantity. It can be accounted for on 
the ground that the struggle in the Junior 
Class is over, and before we make our ap- 
pearance, the Editors for the ensuing year 
will have been elected, and they are saving 
their thunder for that time. In our next 
we will be able to state who they are and 
then give them our parting advice. 




Vol. III. 

JUNE, 1854. 

No. 5. 



This gentleman was descended from 
a very old, wealthy and respectable 
family in South Carolina. His father, 
Col. Thomas Shubrick, distinguished 
himself on different occasions in the 
American Revolution, particularly as 
Aid of Gen. Greene in the battle of Eu- 
taw. The mother of Col. Shubrick 
was a Miss Motte, related to some of 
the most distinguished men in that 
State. Col. Shubrick was born in 1*755, 
and married in 1*7*78 to Miss Branford, 
whose mother's maiden name was Bul- 
lein, a family tracing its lineage to that 
of Anne Bullein, the unfortunate Queen 
of Henry the 8th. They had a large 
family, not surpassed if equaled for 
beauty, grace and honor by any other in 
South Carolina. Of this family six were 
commissioned by the United States 
Government, and served in the war of 
1812, against Great Britain. Thomas 
and Richard were in the army ; John 
Templer, William Branford, Edward 
Rutledge, and Irvine in the Navy. The 
two attached to the army died during 
that war, without having an opportuni- 
ty of distinguishing themselves. John 
Vol. IH.— 34. 

Templer Shubrick, the seventh child 
and fifth son, was born on Bull's Island, 
a valuable sea island, owned by Col. 
Shubrick, on the 12th September, 1 788; 
received the best education that the 
State afforded, and was then sent to the 
care of the Rev. Thomas Thatcher of 
Dedham, Massachusetts. Here he re- 
mained three years with his brother, 
the present (1854) Commodore, Wm. 
B. Shubrick, and was qualified for com- 
mencing the study of law. "With this 
view he entered the office of the Hon. 
William Drayton, who was for many 
years one of the most distinguished 
members of the South Carolina Bar. — 
Here he persevered two years, diligent- 
ly studying the laws of his country and 
the practice of its Courts. At the end 
of that time he told his father that ho 
could no longer restrain his disposition 
to engage in more exciting scenes, and 
requested that he might obtain an ap- 
pointment in the navy. His brother 
William also came forward with the 
same request, and warrants were sent 
on to them dated 20th of June, 1806, 
Templer being 18 and William between 
16 and;$$ years of age. 



Templer now entered into active ser- 
vice and was attached to the Chesa- 
peake — a 36 gun frigate, then fitting at 
Washington for the Mediterranean sta- 
tion*. They dropped down to Nor- 
folk, and when proceeding to sea were 
attacked by the Leopard — a British 50 
gun ship, who fired on them about fif- 
teen minutes, while they from the lum- 
bered state of the deck, were unable to 
return but one gun. That was fired 
from Shubrick's division under Lieut. 
Al!en,f by means of a coal of fire taken 
from the Cook's Galley. The Chesa- 
peake had three killed, eight badly and 
ten slightly wounded. This was an 
exciting scene to one who had never 
been at sea before in an armed vessel, 
and had not been in this more than a 
few weeks. 

In 1808, Templer Shubrick was 
transferred to the brig Argus, and con- 
tinued actively cruising on the Ameri- 
can coast, under different commanders 
about twenty months. He was then 
ordered on board of the "United 
States," a forty-four gun frigate under 

* See Niles' register, vol. 1, p. 949, Septem- 
ber 28th, 1811. 

<t William Henry Allen had seen mnch ser- 
vice and was with Commodore Bainbridge in 
the Washington frigate which first displayed 
the national flag at Constantinople. He distin- 
guished himself in the capture of the Macido- 
nian, and was accordingly promoted to the 
command of the brig Argus. In her he took 
out Mr. Crawford our minister to France, and 
#Msn cruised in the Irish Channel, destroying 
Baerchandise to the estimated value of $2,000,- 
000. There he awaited the attack of the Poic- 
ters, a much heavier brig than the Argus, and 
was killed in the action when she was captured. 
Distinguished as Capt. Allen was for bravery, 
he was yet more remarkable for his urbanity 
and generosity. 

Commodore Decatur. Here he became 
engaged in a duel with one of the offi- 
cers — Decatur heard of it, and put a 
stop to the proceedings. But wanting 
them to promise that it should end 
there, Shubrick refused to make any 
such promise, without an apology, and 
was removed to a small vessel the Vi- 
per. This removal was an apparent pun- 
ishment, but actually a promotion, as 
he became an acting Lieutenant of the 
Viper, officiating in a higher command 
and more responsible duties, than in 
the " United States." Indeed Decatur 
could, not find it in his'heart to punish a 
young officer, for acting as he himself 
would have done, but the discipline of 
his ship must be preserved. 

In the Viper, Shubrick had also the 
gratification of being under the com- 
mand of his own townsman, Lt. Com. 
Charles Gadsden. They cruised south- 
ward, touched at Charleston, and pass- 
ed on to New Orleans, where Lt. Jo- 
seph Bainbridge took the command. — 
In 1811, Templer Shubrick was trans- 
ferred to the Siren, of 16 guns, which 
had seen so much service at Tripoli, 
commanded by Capt. Gordon. Before 
they left New Orleans, while looking 
after some cordage, an Englishman who 
was foreman of the rope-walk, abused 
the men under Shubrick, and on taking 
their part, he was insulted also, by the 
Englishman. Shubrick having a stick in 
his hand, thrashed the Englishman with. 
it, but he drew a pistol and fired it at 
Shubrick, wounding both of his thumbs, 
in consequence of which they were am- 
putated ; this was the only wound he 
ever received. 

Eaily in 1812, Templer Shubrick was 
commissioned lieutenant, and joined 



the frigate Constitution, under Capt. 
Hull at Anapolis. She was exceedingly 
well officered, Morris, Wads worth, Read, 
Hoffman, and Morgan being brother 
officers with Shubrick. To this circum- 
stance may be ascribed her wonderful 
escape from a British squadron of five 
frigates into the port of Boston. In 
this long continued chase, the Constitu- 
tion was hurried forward during a calm 
by means of Kedge Anchors, in addi- 
tion to the usual towing by boats; this 
was an excellent school for young 

On the 2d of August they put to sea 
again, and on the 19th fell in with the 
British frigate, Guerrier, Capt. Dacres, 
who had gone out of his prescribed 
course, for the purpose of catching a 
Yankee and he caught a Tartar. The 
particulars of the action resulting in the 
capture and destruction of the Guerrier 
may be seen in the histories of the 
American Navy, and of that war, and 
in periodicals of the day, as in Niles' 
Register for September 12th, 1812, p. 
28. The capture of the Guerrier com- 
menced a uew era in the history of 
England and of America. From a 
want of confidence in the discipline and 
experience of the American Navy, the 
administration had determined to with- 
hold their orders to our ships in future. 
Capt. Hull had received no order to 
sail from Boston, but put to sea as a con- 
tinuation of his cruise. He was provi- 
dentially brought in contact w\th a sin- 
gle frigate, one of the finest in the Brit- 
ish Navy, and as providentially crowned 
with victory. From this time all our 
vessels were sent to sea as fast as the} 
could be equipped, and liberally sup- 
plied with ail that could be wanted. 

In Great Britain the news had just 
been published of Gen. Hull's whole 
army having been captured at Detroit 
with the whole of Michigan Territory. 
In the midst of the national rejoicing at 
this achei vement, the news was published 
of the Guerrier having been captured 
by a single frigate of her own class, un- 
der the command of Capt. Hull. The 
complexion of every thing was immedi- 
ately changed, and when some spoke of 
the American army having been captur- 
ed, they were rebutted with the exclama- 
tion, " but a British frigate has been 
captured by a single Yankee frigate.'* 
Provinces, towns, and armies had often 
been captured by his Majesties armies, 
but when was it ever know that a King's 
ship had been taken by an enemy of 
about the same force ? If half a dozen 
armies had been captured from their 
enemy, it would not have compensated 
for this loss of character and confidence 
in the invincibility of the British navy. 
In America it was then, and has ever 
since been considered one of the most 
glorious victories achieved by the Amer- 
ican arras, and the vecorded particulars 
of the action form one ol the brightest 
pages in the history of our navy and 

On the return of the Constitution, 
Bainbridge took command of her, Mor- 
ris and Wadsworth left her and Parker 
succeeded as first Lieutenant, Hoffman 
as the second, and Shubrick as the third. 
They sailed on the 26th October, 1812, 
in company with the Hornet, command- 
ed by Capt. Lawrence. They cruised 
together off the coast of Brazil, buttLere 
separated for a time and did not meet 
again until afbr the capture of the Java. 



*On the 29th December the Consti- 
tution captured the British frigate "Ja- 
va," after a bloody battle of nearly two. 
hours duration, off the coast of St. Sal- 
▼adore. In the affair of the Guerrier, 
her loss was excused by some on the 
plea of her having a smaller compli- 
ment of men, but in that of the Java, 
there was no such excuse to be made. She 
had a surplus of men and officer?, both 
of the British army and navy, going as 
passengers to the East Indi«s. They 
all fought bravely and obstinately, but 
the destruction of their ship became 
more certain, because of their obstinacy. 
Many alleged that the loss of the Guer- 
rier was accidental from her masts hav- 
ing been shot away, when coming to 
close quarters with the Constitution. — 
The Java therefore having the wind, 
kept a long shot from her enemy, but 
this made no difference, the Americans 
could not use their caronades, but fired 
their long guns with more skill and ac- 
curacy than the British. The victory 
was delayed, but equally complete. Du- 
ring the action all the masts of the Ja- 
ya were shot away as in the Guerrier, 
and she also was destroyed. 

The Hornet rejoined the Constitu- 
tion soon after this victory ; and Capt. 
Bainbridge having concluded to return 
to port ; Shubrick proposed to exchange 
places with Ballard one of the Hornet's 
Lieutenants, that his cruise might be 
extended. This being agreed to by all 
parties Shubrick shipped as first Lieu- 
tenant in the Hornet of eighteen guns. 
On the 24th February, 1813, they fell 

in with, engaged, captured, and sunk 
the British sloop of war Peacock*.— 
The engagement only lasted fifteen 
minutes, such was the precision and 
rapidity of the American fire that the 
Peacock was literally cut to pieces, her 
Captain, William Peak killed, and the 
vessel in a sinking state.f She went 
down soon after her surrender, taking 
with her the bodies of her brave Cap- 
tain and other defenders, with several 
of the Hornet's crew, who had been 
sent to take possession of the Prize. — 

"So deadly is the contest where gallant foe- 
men meet, 
Their death-bell is the cannon's roar, 
The wave their winding sheet !" — Crafts. 

Shubrick sailed again in the Hornet, 
when commanded by Capt. Biddle, in 
Commodore Decatur's squadron. The 
whole of them were met off Long Is- 
land Sound, chased into New London, 
and there blockaded by Admiral Hardy's 
fleet. Leaving these vessels in the river 
at New London, Decatur repaired to 
New York, with Shubrick and others 
selected for the occasion, and went to 
sea in the fine frigate the President. — 
They sailed from New York on the 
14th January, 1815, and on the same 
night fell in with a British squadron of 
the Majestic a Razee, and three British 
frigates J. Of these the Endymion a heavy- 
frigate was the fastest sailer, and came 

* See Niles' Register, Vol. J, p. 410, February 
"9Tth, 1813. 

* See Niles' Weekly Register April 3d, 1813, 
p. 84, vol. 4. 

fThe brig Peacock was one of the finest vessels 
of her class in the British Navy ; of the same 
tonnage with the Hornet — she had greater 
breadth of beam but was not quite so long. 

% See Niles' Weekly Register for February 
4th, 1815, pp. 364, 365, Yol. vn. 



so near to Decatur that he determined 
to run her aboard, capture her if possi- 
ble, leave his crippled ship to the ene- 
my, and sail away in the prize Endy- 
mion. He accordingly attacked and 
silenced her, but the British Captain as 
if aware of his intention sheered off as 
the President approached, and tried to 
draw his enemy down to the guns of 
his associates. The rigging of the 
President being much cut by the Bri- 
tish shot, she could not take the desired 
position, but stood off again under the 
fire of the whole squadron, now within 
the range of their cannon. A heavy 
firing was kept up by them on the 
President, who lost many brave men 
in this disproportioned conflict and fin- 
ally surrendered to the squadron. 

During the most active and exciting 
scenes of this action, Lieutenant Shu- 
brick's foot slipped in some of the clot 
ted blood, and he fell upon the deck. — 
His youngest brother Irvine — a mid- 
shipman on board of the President, and 
this his first cruise, saw his brother 
Templer fall, and under the impulse of 
fraternal affection, left his station and 
ran to aid and support him. Who can 
judge of his feelings and emotions on 
seeing his brother, and such a brother 
too, rise unhurt from the deck and re- 
sume his duties in his division. He 
still bore a charmed life; from all the 
bloody battles in which he was engaged 
in the service of his country, he escap- 
ed unscathed, he never received a wound 
in battle. 

It is common enough for victors to 
boast ! When these British vessels re- 
turned to England, one of the Endy- 
mion's officers was saying in a coffee 

juse, that his vessel had captured the 

frigate President. An old officer «f 
the same squadron was present and 
said " not the Endymion alone, for you 
know we mobbed the President." Thi» 
fine ship was a very fast sailer, but on 
this occasion did not equal the expecta- 
tions of her crew. When going out 
from New York, she had been run 
aground, and thumped heavily some- 
time, but as she did not leak, they kept 
on their course. When carried to Eng- 
land, she was examined in a Dry Dock, 
and a portion of her keel found to 
have been torn loose and .turned aside, 
so as to have obstructed her sailing. — 
This had doubtless been caused by her 
thumping on the shoal. 

Lieut. Shubrick was sent to Bermuda 
a prisoner of war, but soon released by 
the treaty of peace. On his return to 
New York, it was ascertained that the 
Barbary powers were committing de- 
predations on the American Commerce. 
The American government therefore de- 
termined to punish them, and offered 
the command of the expedition to Com. 
Decatur. He of course accepted it, and 
hoisted his pennant in the Guerrier — a 
new frigate built after the capture and 
destruction of the English vessel by 
Com. Hull. He selected Shubrick for 
his first lieutenant. They sailed on the 
21st May, in the squadron of three frig- 
ates and seven sloops of war, brigs and 
schooners. The Guerrier reached Tan- 
gier on 15th June, and Decatur having 
learned from the American Consul, that 
the Algerine Admiral had just gone into 
the Mediterranean towards Carthage- 
na, hurried on in pursuit. On the l*7th 
the American squadron overtook the 
Algerines, their Admiral Rais Hammi- 
da being in his fine frigate the Mesada, 



of forty-six guns and five hundred men, 
in company with a large brig, the Este- 
dio of twenty-two guns and one hundred 
and eighty men.* A battle immediately 
ensued off the Spanish Port Ca»'thage- 
na, into which the Algerine brig tried 
to escape, but ran aground. During 
this engagement with the Admiral, one 
of the Guerrier's guns burst, killing and 
■wounding about thirty of her own crew. 
A fragment of the gun flew so near to 
Shubriek a» to strike his hat, but missed 
his head. Shortly after this accident 
the Admiral RaisHaramida being killed, 
great havoc made of bis men and the 
masts shot away, the frigate was sur- 
rendered to Com. Decatur and sent into 
Carthagena; she had one hundred and 
sixty men killed and wounded. Du- 
ring this engagement, the other Amer- 
ican vessels had in their boats, boarded 
the Algerine brig while grounded, kill- 
ing and wounding many of her crew, 
twenty-three of whom were found dead 
on her deck ; they then succeeded in 
getting her off the shoal, and sent her 
also into Carthagena. 

Decatur did not go into port with 
his prizes, nor pause to refit or refresh, 
but hurried on to Algiers. Here he 
&rriv«d on the 28th and dictated his 
own terms of peace to the Dey and Re- 
gency. The treaty was signed by both 
parties on the 30th of June, just forty 
days after the squadron left America. — 
The Dey having submitted to the terms 
imposed by the American Commodore, 
he begged of Decatur that his captured 
vessels might be returned to him, say- 
ing that without them his subjects 

* See Niles' Register, Vol. vm, August 19th, 
1815, and Vol. ix. 

would revolt and decapitate him. De- 
catur magnanimously gave them as a 
compliment, not as a right. This liberal- 
ity left an impression in Europe, as 
among the Turks, that the Americans 
did not regard their naval power, but 
would if again molested, return and 
sweep their cruisers from the Ocean 
and Sea. 

Decatur next proceeded to Tunis, de- 
manding payment for two- prizes of the 
American privateer Abelino, which the 
Bey had given up to the British Con- 
sul. For these Decatur demanded and 
received in payment $46,000. He then 
proceeded to Tripoli, and info reed from 
that Regency the payment of $25,000 
for similar violations of American rights. 
In these negotiations at the cannons' 
mouth, he reversed the usage which 
had existed some hundreds of yeans, be- 
tween Christian nations and the Barba- 
ry powers. He also obtained the release 
of the American and other Christian 
captives, without ransom, and a stipula- 
tion for peace and neutral rights there- 
after, wthout tribute. 

This rapid succession of victory and 
triumph enabled Decatur to confer on 
Shubriek a compliment expressive of 
his high respect, and of the confidence 
reposed in his character and abilities. 
He was selected to be the bearer of the 
treaties and of ihe Commodore's des- 
patches. The command of the Eper- 
vier was given to him for this purpose, 
and he hastened to leturn into the bo- 
som of his family, crowned with honor- 
able distinction. Not loug before the 
sailing of the frigate President, Shu- 
briek had married Miss Ludlow of New 
York, and had been very little at home, 
after that joyful crisis in the life of aM 



who are virtuous and honorable. Capt. 
Lewis of the Guerrier, and Lieut. B. J. 
Neale of the Constellation, had also 
been very recently married and to two 
sisters. These two gentlemen got leave 
of absence as soon as the treaties were 
signed, in consideration of their domes- 
tic relations, and sailed with Shubrick 
in the fondest hopes of enjoying there- 
after, surrounded by their families, the 
honors they had bravely won. Lieut- 
enants Yarnal, Drury, Barnwell, Wright, 
Coulter and Hunter, with several Ame- 
rican citizens who had been released 
from captivity in. Algiers, were passen- 
gers in the Epervier. She was known 
to have passed the straits of Gibralter 
on the 10th of July, but after that no- 
thing certain was ever known of her. 
She was said to have been seen but not 
spoken, in a tremendous gale of wind 
in the month of August, not far from 
the American coast, but she never ar- 
rived. Not one of all her gallant crew 
and passengers ever reached the land ! 
The flower of the American Navy is 
said to have perished in the loss of the 

Shubrick was but nine years in the 
Navy, and few or none of his brother 
officers ever saw as much service or en- 
gaged in as many battles, bravely fought 
and honorably won. He lost his life 
by one of those disasters which so of- 
ten close the career of seamen ; as if 
Providence had designed for him the 
enjoyment of a life of glory, unscathed 
by wounds, and a death suited to the 
dangers of his profession. One child, a 
son, was the issue of Shubrick's mar- 
riage, this gentleman Edmund Templer 
Shubrick, is now a Lieutenant in the 
navy and was a volunteer in the Ame- 
rican army when invading Mexico. 

Among other commendable qualities 
and habits, Shubrick was very attentive 
to personal neatness, with gentlemanly 
language and deportment on all occa- 
sions. Without affectation or foppery, 
he respected the office which he filled, 
and thus commanded the deference and 
respect of his men and brother officers. 
On one occasion when expecting every 
moment to be wrecked on a lee shore, 
he and Commodore Parker were over- 
hauling a cable to anchor the vessel as 
a last resort, when they agreed to go 
and put on their uniform coats, that if 
drowned they might even in death be 
known and respected as officers. The 
cable and anchor fortunately saved them 

The war with the Barbary Powers 
and the summary mode of punishing 
their aggressions, made an impression 
on the minds, not only of the parties 
themselves, but of the Turks and of 
every nation in Europe, very favorable 
to the Amerioan name. Within a few 
weeks after the honorable termination 
of their bloody war with Great Britain, 
they sent out an efficient squadron 
against the Barbary Powers, which not 
only beat them in battle, but humbled 
them, enforced the prompt payment for 
their aggressions, and a lelease of their 
Christian Captives without ransom. — 
These were eight Neapolitans, all the 
Americans of whom many were prison- 
ers in consequence of the war with Great 
Britain, and a Danish family of nine 

Although Shubrick was subordinate 
in rank, he was as the first Lieutenant 
of Decatur, one of the most efficient 
agents in these transactions. An Eng- 
lish gentleman asked the Dey of Al- 



giers, why he submitted so readily to 
the Americans. The Dey asked in re- 
ply how he could help it ? Had they 
cot captured British men of war in fair 
fight, and then sent those very vessels 
captured from the British out here to 
take his vessels? The English gentle- 
man also answered " they could not 
help it." 

The Bey of Tunis became very angry 
with the English resident at his court, 
for having induced him to give to the 
English the American prizes which had 
taken shelter in his neutral port. "Did 
you not say, said the Bey, that the Amer- 
ican vessels would soon be swept from 
the ocean by the British navy, and that 
we would never again see an American 
cruiser? Here, on the contrary, they 
attack me with a large squadron, chiefly 
composed of vessels captured from the 
British navy, and strengthened by de- 
feating you." The vessels in Decatur's 
squadron, thu» referred to, were the 
Guerrier and Macedonian, frigates ) 
the Epervier, the Boxer and the Alert, 
all captured from the British in sepa- 
rate actions. 

This squadron, however efficient, was 
soon followed by another under Com. 
Bainbridge, consisting of the Indepen- 
dence, seventy-four, the United States 
and Congress frigates, with sloops of 
war, brigs, &c, in admirable disci- 
pline and equipment, amounting to four- 
teen or fifteen sails. This arrival satis- 
fied even those disposed to sneer, that 
the American navy was not anihilated 
in their war with Great Britain, as had 
been predicted, nor laid up in dry docks, 
or inefficient, as they now amounted to 
twenty-four vessels of war on oi e sta- 
tion, before the eyes of all Europe. — J 

They rendezvoused at Gilbralter and 
came to anchor in admirable stjle. A 
British officer who was present inquired 
of a gentleman standing near him, the 
names of the different vessels. The 
gentleman did not know, but answered 
promptly,"" that Sir, is the Guerrier, 
that the Macedonian, that the Java, that 
the Epervier, that the Boxer, that the 
Frolic, and that the Cyanne," the Eng- 
lish officer having heard more than he 
liked, cut short the conversation, saying, 
"good bye to you sir." 

By the above it appears that J. Tem- 
pler Shubrick, was present and partook 
in the following actions. 

The Chesapeake attacked by the Leopard. 

The escape of the Constitution from a British 

The Guerrier captured by the Constitution. 

The Java " " " 

The Peacock " " Hornet. 

The President " "a British squadron. 

The Ale-erine j ., ., ,, r, 

frigate Mesada. \ " the Guerrier. 

Major A. Garden in lamenting the 
untimely fate of this distinguished offi- 
cer says : " Of Capt. John Templer Shu- 
brick, how shall I speak ? How in 
terms sufficiently energetic, express my 
admiration of his exalted worth ? Tne 
brave, the heroic youth, who thrice in 
the space of twelve months, saw the 
flag of Britain floaling beneath the bas- 
ilisk glance of the triumphant Eagle ! 
His merits are beyond the reach of en- 
comium. Imagination may lead us to 
conceive of what might have been ex- 
pected from him, but alas ! 

" He is gone and idolatrous fancy must sanctify 
his re-lics. 

Gardens' 2d Series. 




Chapel Hill, Feb. 29, 1844. 
Dear Sir : Gov. Swain called on 
me, on the 16th inst. with a letter ad- 
dressed to him, by R. H. Cowan, Esq. 
of Wilmington, requesting his aid, in 
bringing forward and establ shing the 
claims of Gen. John Ashe, on the gov- 
ernmert of the United States, for revo- 
lutionary services. The destitute con. 
dition of Mrs. Laspeyre, the daughter 
of that distinguished patriot, is repre- 
sented as imperatively demanding re- 
lief. Gov. Swain espouses the interests 
of that lady, with as much zeal and 
kindness, as I eould have anticipated 
His official duties, and the situation of 
his family, at this time, preclude him 
from undertaking a task, which I have 
no doubt, he would, under favorable 
circumstances, have performed with the 
greatest pleasure. But he has done* 
what is equivalent. He has chalked 
out the course, which should be pursued 
to obtain justice ; and assigned me the 
pleasing task, of assisting him in ac- 
complishing that object. In such a 
cause, it is impossible, that I should not 
engage with ardor, as in subserving the 
be 1 evolent purpose of Gov. Swain, I 
shall be gratifying my respect for the 
memory of Gen. Ashe; and shall more- 
over, be fulfilling a duty of gratitude, 
for that friendship with which Mrs. 
Laspeyre has honored me for nearly 
fifty years. 

In pursuance of the plan suggested 
by Gov. Swain, I will now proceed to 
give a sketch of the civil and military 
career of Gen. Ashe, in opposing the 
arbitrary measures of the British gov- 

General, then Col. Ashe, was speak- 
er of the Lower House of Assembly, 
from 1762 to 1765 ; and it was, in this 
high and commanding station, as 
speaker, that he opposed the Stamp 
Act, in 1765; and pledged himself to 
resist its operation. He announced to 
Gov. Try on, openly and fearlessly, his 
determination in this respect. 

As soon as Col. Ashe, who was sup- 
ported in his efforts by Gen. Waddell, 
received intelligence of the approach of 
the ship, bringing the stamps and the 
stamp-officer, he embodied a company 
of the militia of New Hanover; and 
prepared for a conflict. When the pro- 
clamation of Gov. Tryon, on Jan. 6, 
1766, announced the arrival of the 
stamp-ship, he collected a number of 
persons, and demanded an interview 
with James Houston, the stamp-master, 
who was the guest of Gov. Tryon. Up- 
on the Governor's refusal, Col. Ashe 
threatened to burn the house ; and pro- 
ceeded to the execution of his threat. 
Tryon yielded; ?nd Houston was con- 
ducted to the market house; and there 
made a solemn oath, never to perform 
the duties of his office. 



There was no pause in the action of 
Col. Ashe. He continued his opposition 
to Gov. Tryon, during the year 1766. 
While he bearded his Excellency in his 
palace, Judge Maurice Moore harassed 
him, in the courts of law, with excep- 
tions to his commissions of Oyer and 

In 1770 and 1771, Col. Ashe was 
elected a member of the Lower House. 

In 1773, he was in the Lower House ; 
and was elected with Harvey, Howe, 
Harnett, Hooper, Caswell, Vail, Hewes 
and Johnston, a committee of corres- 
pondence, to keep up and maintain a 
communication with the sister colonies, 
relative to the proceedings of the Bri- 
tish parliament. 

In 1774, he was in the Lower House, 
and was elected with Hooper, Samuel 
Johnston, Caswell, Howe, Harnett, Ed- 
wards, Allen, Jones and Hewes, a com- 
mittee to prepare the answer of the 
House, to the conciliatory speech of 
Gov. Martin, which they did and re- 
jected it. 

The Assembly of March, 1774, was 
first prorogued to May 25 ; and after- 
wards dissolved (March 30th, 1774,) 
by proclamation. In this year, 1774, 
Col. Ashe entered into an Association, 
with Cornelius Harnett, George Moore, 
Maurice Moore, James Moore, Samuel 
Ashe, William Hooper, Archibald Mac- 
laine, Richard Quince, Alexander Lil 
lington, and a number of other distin- 
guished individuals, by which they 
bound themselves by every tie of relig- 
ion and honor and nature, to be ready, 
and to go forth, and sacrifice their lives 
and fortunes, resisting force by force, to 
secure freedom and safety to their coun- 

When it was ascertained that Gov- 
Martin did not intend to convene an- 
other assembly, Col. Ashe, with John 
Harvey, Wm. Hooper, Willie Jones, 
Samuel Johnston and James Iredell, 
projected a provincial congress, and 
succeeded in causing delegates to be 

Gov. Martin issued a proclamation on 
the 13th August, 1774, in which he 
condemned all assemblies and elections 
of the people and warned all officers of 
the King, both civil and military, to ex- 
ert themselves to the utmost of their 
power, to prevent such illegal meetings, 
and more particularly the meeting of 
certain deputies at Newbern, on the 
25th irstant. 

Notwithstanding this proclamation, 
the provincial congress met at the time 
and place designated, and Col. Ashe 
and Wm. Hooper, having been elected 
to seats in said congress, duly attended. 

In January. 1775, Col. Ashe was 
elected a member of the Committee of 
Safety, ?t Wilmington. 

In the same year he resigned his com- 
mission of Colonel of Militia of New 
Hanover county, which he held under 
the royal government, and accepted ^he 
same rank, at the election of the peo- 
ple; this being the first instance of the 
acceptance of a military commission un- 
der the authority of the people. 

Apprehending that Gov. Martin was 
meditating plans for extending- the for- 
tifications of Fort Johnston, Col. Ashe 
undertook to dismantle and disarm that 
fortress. On the 17th July, 1775, ha 
attacked it with a force of 500 men, and 
reduced it to ashes, and all the houses 
and buildings within it. 

Col. Ash© was denounced for this act, 



in the proclamation of Gov. Martin, 
dated August 8th, 111b, in terms of the 
severest reprobation, and also, for influ- 
encing and conducting a body of armed 
men of the county of New Hanover, and 
of other counties adjacent, to " the most 
treasonable outrages." In the same pro- 
clamation, the intended provincial con- 
gress to be held at Hillsborough, on the 
20th instant, is also denounced, as a 
meditated and insiduous sttempt, to 
erect, among his Majesty's faithful sub- 
jects, the standard of rebellion. 

On the 20th August, 1115, Col. Ashe 
■with Cornelius Harnett, Alexander 
Lillington, Jimes Moore, Samuel Ashe, 
Archibald Maclaine and Win. Hooper 
attended the provincial congress at 
Hillsborough, which met in defiance of 
the proclamation. 

In this congress, the military forces 
of the province were organized, and 
Col. Ashe and Col. Moore were nomi- 
nated as candidates for the Colonelcy 
of the first regiment. The latter was 

From this provincial congress, Col. 
Ashe returned to his home in New 
Hanover, animated by an extraordina- 
ry zeal. He immediately commenced 
the undertaking of raising a regiment, 
this he effected at his own expense, on 
the pledge of his estate, and the faith 
in his character. So unbounded was 
the confidence in his probity, that the 
recruits unhesitatingly received his pro- 
missory notes in lieu of pay. 

The passions which agitated that 
day have been long hushed in the grave, 
but it is not irrelevant to the subject, 
nor will it be uninteresting to you, to 
peruse the observations of an eye-wit- 
ness of the scene that occurred after 

Col. Ashe's return to New Hanover. It 
will be sketched from a conversation 
between my father the late Mr. George 
Hooper and myself, which took place in 
the latter end of the year 1819, or about 
the beginning of 1820. 

He remarked that he could never for- 
get Gen. Ashe's return from the conven- 
tion at Hillsborough, in Sept. 1115. — 
He was in a state of prodigious excite- 
ment. The boast of Pompey, " In 
whatever part of Italy I stamp my foot, 
legions will rise up," if we may com- 
pare small things with great, Ashe may 
be said to have realized, without the 
gasconade of the Roman. His object was, 
to raise a regiment, and he accomplish- 
ed it. You cannot imagine what a 
commotion he stirred up. He kindled 
an enthusiasm in New Hanover, and 
the adjacent counties, of which there is 
no parallel in the traditions of the State. 
In less than two weeks after his return 
from the convention, persons were seen 
moving in every direction on the high 
ways in the country, and on the streets 
in the towns, with cockades in their hats 
inscribed, "Who will not follow when 
Ashe leads the way ?" 

I observed, he must have been a 
great speaker. Not in all respects, was 
the reply. I heard him, he continued, 
in the Assembly. He was afiuerft, but 
not a skillful debater. Indeed, he was 
too much under the dominion of his 
imagination and his passions, to make 
a skilful debater. The former, bore him 
away from the question, in lofty, and 
sometimes in eccentric flight ; and the 
latter, fused his argumentation into tor- 
rents of invective. When he appealed 
to the heart, he was more effective. He 
struck the chords of passion with a mas- 



ter hand. His words roused the soul, 
like the roll of the drum, or the roar 
of the artillery, at the commencement 
of the action. Every breast heaved as 
if with the sentiment of the Athenian 
orator, " Let us away ! Let us arm ! 
Let us march against Philip!" 

The testimony of Mr. George Hoop- 
er as to facts, will not be objected to by 
those who were acquainted with him. — 
He was however, at the time of the 
scene, he describes, a young man about 
28 years old, and few young men at that 
age are competent to form a correct es- 
timate of the abilities of older men, en- 
gaged in political or in professional pur- 
suits. Another gentleman, whom I 
shall cite, rather as authority than as 
testimony will lead us to the conclusion 
that Mr. Hooper was not alone in his 
estimate of the powcs of Gen. Ashe's 
mind. Mr. Samuel Strudwick, a mem- 
ber of his Majesty's council, resided in 
the neighborhood of Gen. Ashe. Mr. 
Strudwick had arrived at an age when 
the judgment is mature, and when ex- 
perience sheds a light on its decisions. 
He had mingled in the fashionable and 
political circles of the great metropolis 
of England, and had enjoyed abundant 
opportunities of measuring talents, and 
graduating merit with more than ordi- 
nary precision. Speaking of Gen. Ashe 
on some occasion, which for aught I 
know, might have been the very one, 
which I have noted as the subject of Mr. 
Hooper's observations, he declared em- 
phatically that there were not, in the city 
of London, superior in intellect to John 
Ashe. Pardon this unnecessary digres- 

The provincial council which was 
elected by the provincial congress, at 

their session of August, 1*775, held it» 
first session at the Court house, in John- 
ston county, on the 18th Oct. 1775. 

On the* 22d October, intelligence of 
serious discontents among the people 
being received by this council, and'that 
the people had assembled and protested 
against the proceedings of the late con- 
gress, Col. Ashe was appointed, with 
Samuel Ashe and Cornelius Harnett, to 
explain the proceedings of the congress, 
to the people. 

The provincial congress assembled at 
Halifax, on April 4th, 1776. At this- 
congress, Col. Ashe was promoted to v 
the rank of Brigadier General of Wil- 
mington District, and took the immedi- 
ate command of the detachments or- 
dered for Gen. Moore. 

On June 5th, 1776, the fourth pro- 
vincial council met at Wilmingtou. 

Gen. Ashe appears to have been on 
the alert, and active at this time, by his 
report to the council. 

Here, there seems to be a chasm, 
which I have no means of filling up. 
That Gen. Ashe was actively employed, 
I nevertheless entertain no doubt. 

On February 24th, 1779, Gen. Ash* 
arrived at Brier Creek, with 2,800 men. 

He was surprised and defeated there, 
March 3d, 1779. 

A court martial was held March 9th, 
1779, by order of Gen. Lincoln, and at 
the particular desire of Col. Ashe to ex 
amine into the affair at Brier Creek. 

The following facts were set forth at 
the trial : 

1. Gen. Ashe had been too short a 
time at his position, to be acquainted 
with the country about it. 

2. His men were exhausted by a 



long and fatiguing march, from which 
they had not had time to recover. 

3. They had suffered many days from 
a scarcity of provisions. 

4. There was an utter destitution of 
all necessarj accoutrements. The men 
were unprovided with pouches, or car- 
touche boxes, to hold their ammunition; 
and if they had been supplied with 
powder before the action, could not have 
been prevented from wasting it. 

5. The men had no' trenching tools. 

6. The enemy had full and accurate 
information of all that passed in the 
Whig camp, through the activity of 
disaffected persons, while Gen. Ashe, 
on the contrary, received no correct ac- 
counts, but was unavoidably misled. 

7. Gen. Ashe's force, by fatigue par- 
ties, baggage parties, baggage guard, 
and absentees, was reduced to 600 

8. The cavalry were worn out with 
fatigue. Nevertheless, two bodies of 
horse, were sent out on the morning of 
the action, to reconnoitre and report. — 
One of these, saw that a considerable 
corps of the enemy had moved ; but 
did not return to give notice. Anoth- 
er body under Col. Marberry, saw the 
enemy cross the creek, exchanged fires 
with them, and sent a messenger with 
information, but the messenger, was 
either taken or killed. 

9. The enemy was greatly superior 
in force. 

10. Gen. Ashe, under these accumu- 
lated disadvantages, prepared for ac- 
tion, so soon as he heard of the ap- 
proach of the enemy. In fifteen min- 
utes he advanced with his forces in two 
lines to meet them. 

11. The first line stood about five 

12. The second line, which was the 
first to break, was engaged for a mo- 
ment on the right. 

13. Wlrle the Georgians were en- 
gaged, Gen. Ashe left the field in order 
to rally the fugitives. 

With this array of well sustained 
facts before them, the court martial de- 
cided "that Gen. Ashe did not take all 
the necessary precautions, which he 
ought to have done to secure his camp ; 
and to obtain timely intelligence of the 
movements and approach of the enemy; 
but they entirely acquitted him of every 
imputation of a want of personal cour- 
age ; and think that he remained on 
the field as long as prudence and duty 

For the characters of the officers, who 
composed this court martini, I enter- 
tain a high and unqualified respect. I 
cannot impute to such men any un- 
worthy bias ; yet I must protest against 
that part of their sentence which sets 
forth, " that Gen. Ashe did not take all 
the necessary precautions to secure his 
camp, and to obtain timely intelligence 
of the movements and approach of the 

That judicious veteran, Gov. Moul- 
trie, says nothing that can warrant us 
in believing, that he coincided with the 
court martial. On the contrary, his 
note at the beginning of the trial, ap- 
pears to be dictated by a spirit of kind- 
ness, and by an intention to invite us 
to just refle6tions. It is in these words : 
" The evidence on this court of inquiry, 
shows how wretchedly the militia 
armies were provided with arms and 
accoutrements." In one of his letters 
he speaks of the misfortunes of General 
Howe and Ashe; not imputing mis- 
takes to either of them. 



The reflections of that sensible histo- 
rian, Dr. Ramsay, on this affair at Biier 
Creek, are comprised in the following 
passage : 

" Inexperienced in the art of war, the 
Americans were subject to those re- 
verses of fortune, which usually attend 
young soldiers. Unacquainted with 
military stratagems, deficient in disci- 
pline, and not broken to habits of im- 
plicit obedience, they were often sur- 
prised ; and had to learn by repeated 
misfortunes, the necessity of subordina- 
tion, and the advantages of watchful- 
ness and discipline." 

There is nothing in this quotation, 
which looks like accordance with the 
decision of the court martial, in that 
part of their sentence which censures 
Gen. Ashe. It refers to that destitu- 
tion and insubordination, which prevail- 
ed in all the militia camps of the Whigs, 
in the early stages of the revolution ; 
and its evident tendency is, to exonerate 
Gen. Ashe, from the hasty condemna- 
tion which follows military disaster ; 
and from that unjust obloquy, which 
augments the gloom of a public calami- 

On a careful examination of the de- 
fence and the testimony, I think every 
unprejudiced mind, will adopt the con- 
clusion of Gen. Bryant, one of the wit- 
nesses on the trial, " that every thing 
was done, that the circumstances ad- 
mitted of." 

I have entered more deeply into this 
affair at Brier Creek, than may seem to 
you proper. But to mention it was 
necessary ; and to leave it without ex- 
amination, would argue a most culpable 
indifference to the reputation of a brave 
officer and a disinterested patriot. In 

holding the scales which are to weigh 
the services and the compensation of 
such a man, a single disaster, though 
the consequence of mistaken measures, 
or precipitate movements, cannot be 
admitted as a just or as a legitimate 
weight, and if it could, it would not be 
a feather against the manifold and effi- 
cient public services! of this distinguish- 
ed patriot. War, even systematic, well 
organized, well appointed war, is sub- 
ject to numerous accidents, is liable to a 
thousand contingencies, is exposed to 
various casualties. If then, we judge 
with severity, the leader of an army of 
raw and inexperienced recruits, unpro- 
vided with every thing that an army 
ought to have, either for attack or for 
defence, with what rigor shall we visit 
the misfortunes of the veteran comman- 
der of well-trained and well-disciplined 
battalions ? 

After the defeat at Brier Creek, I can- 
not for some time trace Gen. Ashe's 
progress. His letter to Gen. Lincoln 
on the evening of the action, if it can- 
not serve as a clew, may at least furn- 
ish an inference. In that letter he says : 
" Gen. Bryant and Rutherford are of 
opinion that it is better to retreat to 
your quarters ; therefore I am iuclined 
to march to-night, when we get all our 
fugitives over." He, no doubt, contin- 
ued to exert himself in rendering ser- 
vices to the cause in which he was en- 

It is known that in 1781, he return- 
ed to North Carolina. Wilmington, at 
that time, was a British garrison, com- 
manded by Major Craig. There, two 
of his sons, were confined in a prison 
ship; and sentenced to be shot. One 
of them was Samuel Ashe, a Captain h_ 



the continental line, afterwards well- 
known as Major Samuel Ashe ; the oth- 
er, his youngest son William. A day 
was fixed for their execution, and it 
would certainly have taken place if 
Major Craig had not received authentic 
information from the Whig camp, that 
a dreadful retaliation was in their pow- 
er, and would be the consequence of 
such an act of inhumanity. 

To one worn down by sickness and 
exposure and anguish of heart, every 
accession of misery comes with double 
force. The pleasure of seeing his fami- 
ly was embittered by anxiety, about 
these unfortunate youths. He was ob- 
liged too, to conceal himself, and to vis- 
it his family occasionally, and with ma- 
ny precautions. He had a shelter pro- 
vided for himself in a swamp, neai the 
Neck plantation, which belonged to his 
brother Samuel Ashe, and whither his 
-wife had removed from the family resi- 
dence, in order to be more out of the 
way of annoyance, from the excursions 
of the enemy. But no prudence, no 
vigilance, can avail aught against treach- 
ery. Gen. Ashft soon discovered that 
his confidential servant had betrayed 
him ; and that Major Craig, was tak- 
ing steps to capture him. He resolved 
immediately to remove to a more safe 
retreat. To this, he was on his way, 
with a faithful partizan, a man named 
Leguin, when they suddenly came in 
view of a squadron of horse, in British 
uniform, posted on a sand-ridge. Turn- 
ing to Leguin, he said, " I see that I 
must be sacrificed, make your escape." 
Leguin followed his advice and succeed- 
ed. Gen. Ashe was infirm, and there- 
fore easily taken ; but he was treated, 
for a while at least, with more consid- 

eration than he expected from the cap- 
tors. They provided a carriage for him 
— a stick cbair it was called, much used 
on Cape Fear in those days ; and for 
some years after the end of the war. 

In this way he was conveyed to Wil- 
mington. During his confinement there, 
he took the small pox. What he suf- 
fered and how long, I cannot tell, and 
probably none of his family, now living, 
can relate. He was at length paroled, 
and died of a broken heart, in October, 
1781, in the upper part of Duplin coun- 
ty, on his way to the back country, 
whither he was removing his family. 

I have thus stated the facts which 
form the basis of General Ashe's claims 
on the government of the United States. 
These facts are strong, and are support- 
ed by the public records of the State, 
and by historical and traditional evi- 
dence. I might have enlarged upon 
some of them, but to an enlightened 
committee of the House of Represen- 
tatives, amplification would be superflu- 
ous, and declamation puerile. If, to ap- 
peal to the passions of such a commit- 
tee were necessary or decorous, there 
are incidents in the life of Gen. Ashe, 
which noted in brief and simple lan- 
guage would thrill every breast with 
emotion. But such appeals are neither 
necessary nor decorous. 

We ask not remuneration for th© 
sufferings of a lofty patriotism and a 
keen sensibility. We ask a reasonable 
compensation for services rendered. — 
We do not implore charity. We soli- 
cit justice for the indigent daughter of 
a lamented statesman, soldier and pat- 
riot, whose pecuniary losses were ruin- 
ous, whose voluntary sacrifices were 
greater than those of any other leader 



of the revolution in North Carolina, 
whose services were various and effi- 
cient, and whose health was destroyed, 
and whose life was shortened by the 
energy and perseverance of his exertions 

in the cause of liberty and independence. 
I am, dear sir, truly yours, 

The Hon. John B. Ashe, Representa- 
tive in Congress, Washington City. 





There is a calm on earth, a holy 
hush of worldly sounds ; the zephyrs 
have stilled their wings to sleep, and 
the sunbeams and shadows lie nes- 
tled close together on the ground. — 
And thus it is sometimes with the 
human heart. It has its moments 
of blissful si.ence when peace, the white- 
winged angel, reigns in it supreme, and 
although there may be clouds above it, 
yet some sun-rays steal between, and 
the shadow sleeps with the sunbeam in 
holy quietness upon the soul. In such 
hours as these the heart loves to roam 
far above the blue arched sky and dream 
of that time when the peace of heaven 
shall rest upon it and the sun of Right- 
eousness shall shine upon it ; but the 
cloud and shadow shall never come 
near. And it is in such hours as these 
that the mind loves to wander back on 

memory's wing to the past and brush 
the ashes of forgetfulness from the dy- 
ing embers of the scenes of other years, 
or to turn and meditate on the unknown 

Hark ! a sounds in the 
distance and the echo dies away far 
over the green hills. O, what is life I 
It is but the echo of a horn, or the last 
dying note of a mournful strain. The 
sound ceases and the echo dies — the 
finger touches not the string and the 
strain is silent, silent forever, and life- 
like that echo and that strain, ceases to 
sound forever. 

I wandered by a streamlet and on its 
bosom a bubble danced. The sun 
shone on it and it reflected a thousand 
rays of brightness and looked fair 
enough to live forever ; but the wind* 
blew upon it, and its brightness vanish- 
ed and it burst to air. 0, what is lift 



but a bubble on tbe stream of time and 
death but a wind that touches it and it 
is gone forever. 

I looked upon a flower in the morn- 
ing, and it was tinged with a hue as 
soft and rosy as the blush on a virgin's 
cheek. I saw it again at noon and it 
was drooped and sorrowful like the 
head of a mourner whose fountain of 
tears is dried. I touched it again at 
twilight but the canker was there and 
the sweetness had left it, like a soul 
when life is gone, and the rosy hue had 
left it for it was dead. And I thought 
as I gazed upon it : O, what is life but 
a flower, bright in the morning, with- 
ered at noon, robbed of its sweetness 
and dead at night. 

1 touched my harp-string and there 
came from it a sound clear and sweet, 
and upon the strain my soul went out 
and seemed carried to the pearly gates 
of its heavenly home ; but by one rude 
touch the string was broken and the 
strain was silenced for aye. And I 
thought what is life but a golden harp- 
string which, when lightly touched, 
wakes a sound that man could worship 
and angels might still their wings to 
hear, but touch it roughly and the " sil- 
ver cord will be loosened" and life's 
only strain is hushed forever. 

I went forth at twilight and looked 
upon the evening star as it trembled 
far above the world like a gleam of glo- 
ry from a better land, and I left it shin- 
ing in its brightness. I looked upon it 
again at midnight, but a cloud had 
covered it. Yet I knew that behind 
the cloud it still shone on and that some 
could see its light though I could not. 
I went in the morning and looked again 
and 1© ! it was gone ; but it had spoken 
Vol. Ill— 35. 

a lesson to me mute, eloquent and di- 
vine — it had told me of that brighter 
day that is coming when our light of 
life shall be no longer needed and as the 
star had been hid in the bosom of the 
deep blue sky, so shall we soon pass 
from the sight of men and rest sweetly 
and silently in the breast of the green, 
green earth. It spoke with that silent 
and divine voice that thrills the soul 
with its depth and its sweetness and 
points us instinctively to the grave — 
Heaven — and Eternity. Ah ! what is 
life that we should prize it so — an echo, 
a bubble or a flower, a birth-song and 
a dirge. 

Life's a dream and life's a vapor, 

Soon it passes and is done ; 
Life's a vision, life's a taper, 
Yea and but a single one, 
Always trimmed and always burning, 
Soon, too soon, forever gone. 

Life's an echo, life's a sigh, 

Or a summer evening's blast ; 
Life's a beam that soon must die, 
Or a flower that cannot last, 
Twine it softly, touch it lightly, 
Soon, too soon it will be past. 

Life's a shadow, life's a sunbeam, 

Or a dew-drop of the morn ; 
Life's a bubble on time's swift stream, 
Bursting e'en as soon as born, 
Touch it not for soon it pass.eth 
As the echo of a horn. 

Life's a span, an evening vesper, 

Life's a harp-string made of gold, 
Life's an angel's softest whisper, 
Or a tale that must be told, 
Tell it sweetly, tell it slowly, 
Ne'er again will it unfold. 




Can't yon tell me, dear Messrs Edi- 
tors a remedy for — azure demons ? or 
are you ever troubled with visits from 
such ugly guests ? I don't know wheth- 
er a description of the sufferings other 
unfortunate mortals undergo, when un- 
dergo when under the influence of these 
cerule and evil-apirits would strike a re 
sponsive chord in your Editorial breasts, 
or not ; but I am anxious to hear what 
ib your resource for relief in such visita- 
tions, and I hope to read some prescrip- 
tion for this heart-sickness, or whatever 
you call it in your next " table." 

Well Messrs, Editors I didn't have 
an idea of honoring — myself by giving 
you a thought to-night, but an adverse 
circumstance which happened soon af- 
ter supper, caused me, nolens volens, to 
change my plan of operations. You 
know last Tuesday was St. Valentine's 
day. Well, there 's a dear bad boy, 
(how scornfully his lip would curl, if he 
could know this was meant for him !) I 
suppose I ought to say a young gentle- 
man, for he is my senior by at least half-a- 
dozen years, but he is so full cf fun, and 
frolic, and mischief, sometimes, that he 
seems almost like a boy — but what 's 
the use of all this, when you know him 
as well or better than I do — at least I 
think it is probable you do. To return. 

He lives — I won't tell you where, a 
good distance, or rather a bad distance, 
/ think, from here. I like him very 

much, and I don't think he dislikes me. 
It has been some time, if time is to be 
" counted by heart-throbs," since I last 
saw him, and I did think Valentine 
time would bring me a message of — 
that is, a little complimentary Bote or 
soma foolish verses or something of the 
kind, as an evidence that my existence 
had not entirely slipped his memory. 

Doesn't Byron say, "The infinity of 
wishes leads .but to disappointment ?" 
I had looked in vain among the two or 
three Valentines which had reached me 
during the last few days, " turning from 
all they brought to all they could not 
bring" for the clear, firm decided hand- 
writing which should tell me- -something 
nonsensical I suppose I expected — and 
just a few minutes before the fiual blow 
was given to my hopes, I had been say- 
ing to myself, " Now, Myra, my dear, 
I would'nt advise you to expect any- 
thing particular by to-night's mail, be- 
cause I think it would have come be- 
fore this, if it had been coming." But 

"Who may say 'be still,' 
To the fond heart that beats not at our will ?" 

I listened intently for the step of the 
messenger I had despatched to the P. 
0., met him at the door, and found — 
not what I wished. I did not show my 
disappointment, however, but broke 
open some of the papers, laughed at 
Mrs. Partington's last perpetration, read 



aloud and exquisite " Fern-leaf," " made 
a Myra-t\on " at some of the most as- 
tonishing news, read a letter which 
might have been at the bottom of Pam- 
lico Sound, for anything I cared to the 
contrary, and tried to settle down i» a 
quiet night of work and reading, but 
I couldn't possibly. I went to the pi 
ano three several times, but the waltzes 
were tame, the polkas spiritless, the 
quicksteps a drag, the songs — I had no 
heart to sing. I tried to play with my 
little brother, that wouldn't do either. 
I attempted to read the last " Home 
Journal " — no better. (I didn't have 
a new number of the University Maga- 
zine, or the result might have been dif- 
ferent.) So, in *utter despair, I lit a 
candle and stole off to be alone. 

Et quid nunc ? Shall I sit down and 
indulge myself with a hearty cry? — 
Pride decidedly vetoes any such dis- 
play of wounded feeling, and still I 
know it must inevitably end in that un- 
less I go heartily to work at some- 
thing. — A " brilliant idea " strikes me. 
Shan't I try to write a few lines for that 
dear Magazine ? No sooner thought of 
than acted upon, and behold me, " My- 
ra herself again," " sitting in my quiet 
room," (I hope, however, there are no 
spirits of former occupants present, not 
even " angel " ones — if I thought so, it 
would sadly mar its quietness,) confess- 
ing for the benefit of the readers of the 

And this must be the cure I was 
wishing for ; for already this " careless 
abandon, this hearty self-out pouring," 
(Vide " My Novel,") has been quite a 
relief to me, and I do believe I could 
go down stairs and play, " Were I but 
his own wife," with great zest, if it 

wouldn't be foolish. But dear reader, 
was it distressing ? " A wounded spir- 
it, who can bear ?" I wouldn't have 
him to think, however, if this should 
ever meet his eye, that I am so very 
much troubled about it. I'm half 
ashamed of writing as I have done, and 
would hate most of all, that he should 
even suspect my disappointment, for 

"Why should I for others weep 
When none will sigh for me ?" 

I wonH care, I'm determined — 

" I cares for nobody, not 1 ; and nobody cares 
for I." 

But he never will suspect that Myra 

Ivring is there now, I'd like to 

have told a name he would know — and 
so I can write to my heart's content, in 
perfect security. My ! how he would 
be surprised, if he could know that the 
shy demure little girl he has seen trem- 
bling like an aspen leaf, and hardly able 
to walk to the piano when asked to 
play, yet wanting courage to refuse, and 
constantly guilty of all such follies, was 
deliberately writing for the "Univ. 
Mag.," and absolutely counting on see- 
ing her prattle in print ! 

Oh that I had the art of easy writing 
What should be easy reading. 

Horace says : " Scribendi recte sapere 
est et principium et fons " — or some- 
thing " sorter " like that. I quote from 
memory. Well, I suppose Horace is 
right, at least I should be afraid to con- 
tradict him, but oh dear ! what will, be- 
come of Myra ? I don't think the poles 
are farther apart than two ideas, " My- 
ra " and " sapere " — if it was sappy 
now — but I mustn't suggest such no- 
tions, and I hadn't ought to be quoting 



Horace against myself, but I beg you 
will remember — attention, if you please, 
Messrs. Editors ! it's you I'm speaking 
to — remember, Horace was talking of 
the " ars poetica " about that time, and 
that's a thing altogether unheard of in 
the philosophy of my writing — and 
you know ' 

** A little nonsense now and then 
Will benefit the wisest men." 

Won't what I write do for the non- 
sensical ingredient in the composition 
of the Magazine ? A young gentleman 
of my acquaintance sagely remarked to 
me the other day, that we should never 
talk foolishly, with the expectation of 
having our foolishness forgiven, not 
even if we were quite certain it would 
be pardoned. I suppose, though he 
didn't say so, he thought he was chari- 
tably bestowing his ideas on the sub- 
ject, where they were most needed. — 
However I disregarded his advice for 
once, as the reader has no doubt per- 

I want to do a heap of things I can't 
do. I want to be a good girl, and a 
smart girl, and a sweet girl, and a nice, 
lady-like girl, and a modest, retiring 
girl, and an active independent girl, 
and a good housekeeper, a " fine girl 
for business," as one of our old servants 
says — and I can't be a single one of 
them. I don't know what's to be done 
about it. May-be if I was all I want to 
be, that Valentine might have been 
" gaily filled and sent." lama" poor, 
lone, lorn creetur " too, like Mrs. Gum- 
midge of tearful memory, at least so 
far as the inner life is concerned. I 
never was understood. Those who 
know me best, don't know me at all. — 

I know in society I seem very different 
from what I really am, and it isn't be- 
cause I mean to be deceitful either, for 
I am better than I seem. I am half 
provoked with myself sometimes that I 
don't show better, and half pleased in 
the proud consciousness that I am bet- 
ter than they deem me. I try to 
" learn 

To make my heart suffice itself and seek 
Support and sympathy in its own depths." 

But it is a hard, a bitter lesson. I 
have not learnt it yet — shall I ever 
learn it ? Sometimes there comes such 
a passionate longing for human sympa- 
thy — such a yearning to be understood 
and appreciated — such a failing from 
the intense desire for a " kindred nature 
to mingle with my own." 

I think it is to Douglas Jerrold I am 
indebted for the words which spring to 
my memory, expressing so well what I 
have so often experienced. " There are 
moments when some stormy impulse 
will force the heart to declare the long- 
buried thoughts of years — perhaps some 
secret instinct tells us that we are near 
to those who can sympathize and feel 
for us." 

I have sometimes fancied I had met 
with those who could be to me "all 
that I sought and all I seek." The sud- 
den lighting up of the eye, the quick 
flush of the cheek, the ready answering 
smile, when I have with fear and trem- 
bling given utterance to " that which is 
most within me," have told me that I 
had " touch'd the electric cord where- 
with we are darkly bound" — oh, so 
darkly! — but the restraints of the mon- 
ster, Etiquette, the tiammels of custom 
interfere to prevent the free interchange 



which might be so charming, and with 
a sigh I retreat into myself, 

" I check my thoughts like curbed steeds 
That struggle with the rein, 
And bid my feelings sleep." 

But I talk freely and without restraint 
to the trees and flowers, and breathe 
my sorrows to the stars — the stare! — 
what sweet comforters they are. I 'put 
aside the curtain from the window just 
by me, and as I gaze upon their pure 
steady serene lustre, 

The star of the unconquered will, 
Arises in my breast ; 
Serene, and resolute and still, 
And calm, and self-possessed. 

I breathe a silent prayer that I may 
be one of the blest who shall " shine as 
the stars of the firmament forever," and 
I turn away refreshed, and strengthened 
for the Battle of Life, by the sweet les- 
son I have drawn from the stars. 

That accomplished, glorious creature, 
Beatrice di Negra told Audley Egerton 
(ah, she was a true woman after all, 
" her head only another heart ") — " "We, 
women have no public life, and we do 
idly sit down and dream." No "pub- 
lic life " it is true, but private life all 
may have, and I humbly conceive it the 
Countess di Negra had been, as I am, a 
young housekeeper, the sole dependence 
and support, as all housekeepers are, of 
all around them, she would probably 
have found less time to "sit down idly 
and dream," and she might have been a 
happier as well as a more useful wo- 
man. Well, I try not to dream — when 
I can possibly help it, because I know 
it isn't good for me. It is very delight- 

" A thousand times more dear 
Than any actual happiness 
That ever brightened here." 

But then the difficulty is, that 

" I have loathed reality 

That chased such dream away," 

and after all, the real world is the 
world we all have to live in, and surely 
nothing which unfits us to cope with 
the world as it is, can be salutary, or 
ought to be encouraged, so as I said be- 
fore I try not to dream. I cook and I 
garden — I sew and kuit — I study and 
read — I talk to my father and play with 
the children — I walk untiringly — and 
still there exists the same indefinable 
want, always present. Bulwer tells us 
when Violante met Harley L'Estrange, 
"Life had no more a want, nor her 
heart a void" — Violante found her 
" own peculiar mate " thsn. I wonder 
if a Harley would satisfy me. Other 
people feel the same way, I've heard 
them say so. I don't know why I write 
so freely, (for generally I have an in- 
vincible repugnance to speaking of these, 
the penetralia of my nature, a nature 
too which is anything but communica- 
tive,) unless it is with the secret hope 
that some one who reads, may feel with 
me, and pity and love me, though I 
may never know it. Our greatest poet 
says — 

" No one is so accursed by fate, 
No one so utterly desolate, 

But some heart, though unknown, 

Responds unto its own." 

Is it so ? 

It may be that I do, as Mrs. Hemans 
so beautifully expresses it — " pine 

For communings more full and high 
Than aught to mortals known." 



And perhaps mine will be the fate 
spoken so feelingly by the most bril- 
liant and gifted daughter of Genius, 
L. E. L. 

Human heart this history 

Is thy fated lot 
Even such thy watching 
For what cometh not. 
Till with anxious waiting dull, 
Round thee fades the beautiful, 
Still thou seekest on, though weary 
Seeking still in vam. 

But my heart, in its young hope and 
trust, would fain believe that Longfel- 
low is right. I only wish to learn from 
him the beautiful lessons "to be up 
and doing, with a heart for any fate" — 

" To live that each to-morrow, 
Finds me farther than to-day." 

To learn to labour and to — wait. 

The night is far spent. The dying 
embers on the hearth, the candle almost 
ready to expire in its socket, and the 
" solemn stillness " which pervades all 
things within and without, g warn me 

that the witching hour, when fairies and 
elves come forth from their hiding-places 
and walk abroad over our beautiful 
earth, is on the wing. 

I have written with a " pen dipped in 
heart" and I am resolved to adhere to 
my original intention of sending what 
I have written to be published in the 
Universal Magazine, if you think proper. 
Don't sneer and criticize, dear confiden- 
tial friends, if you please. Those who 
are at Rome needn't always "do as 
Rome does," and Myra is such a ten- 
der-hearted little thing — you don't 
know — she would almost cry herself to 
death if you were to snub her much. — 
But she trusts to your kind hearts, and 
submits her heart-book cheerfully to 
your tender mercies. Hoping you may 
be interested in the perusal of it, Bhe 
bows and disappears, with the promise 
that she will return at the slightest ex- 
pression of a wish to that effect, in less 
time than you can say 

Myra Ivring. 


The following poem was originally published in the New Monthly Magazine. " It is a felici- 
tous compound of fact, humor, and sentiment, forcibly and originally expressed." 

ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN BELZO- Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dumby 
NI'S EXHIBITION. Thou hast a tongue, come, let us hear its 

Thou'rt standing on thy legs above ground, 
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon. 
Not like their ghosts or disembodied creatures, 
But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and 


And thou hast walked about, (how strange a 

In Thebe's streets three thousand years ago, 
When the^Memnonium was in all its glory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 



Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect — 
To whom should we assign the Sphinx's 
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 

Of either pyramid that bears his name ? 
Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? 
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Ho- 
mer ? 

Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden 
By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade — 

Then say, what secret melody was hidden 
In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played? 

Perhaps thou wert a priest — if so, my struggles 

Are rain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles. 

Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 
Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to 
glass ; 

Or dropped a half-penny in Homer's hat, 
Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, 

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 

A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 

I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 

Has any Roman soldier mauled and kunckled, 

For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, 

FEre Romulus and Remus had been suckled : 
Antiquity appears to have begun 
Long after thy primeval race was run. 

Thou couldst develop, if that withered tongue 
Might tell us what those sightless orbs have 
How the world looked when it was fresh and 
And the great deluge still had left it green ; 
Or was it then so old, that history's pages 
Contained no record of its early ages ? 

Still silent, incommunicative elf! 

Art sworn to secrecy ? then keep thy vows; 
But prithee tell us something of thyself; 
Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ; 
Since in the world of spirits thou hast slum- 
What hast thou seen — what strange adventures 

Since first thy form was in this box extended, 
We have, above ground, seen some strange 
mutations ; 
The Roman empire has begun and ended, 
New. worlds have risen — we have lost old na- 
And countless kings have into dust been hum- 
Whilst not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, 
When the great Persian conqueror, Camby- 
Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering 
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 
And shook the pyramids with fear and won- 
When the gigantic Memnon fell assunder ? 

If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 

The nature of thy private life unfold ; 
A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern 
And tears adown that dusky cheek have roll- 
ed : 
Have children climbed those knees, and kissed 

that face ? 
What was thy name and station, age and race ? 

Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead ! 

Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
Posthumous man, who quit'st thy narrow bed, 
And standest undecayed within our presence, 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morn- 
ing, , 
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its 

Why should this worthless tegument endure, 
If its undying guest be lost for ever ? 

Oh, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 
In living virtue, that, when both must sever, 

Although corruption may our frame consume, 

The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 



Ambition's voice was in my ear, she whisper'd 

" How goodly is the land of Room, how wide 

the Russian sway ! 
How blest to conquer either realm, and dwell 

through life to come, 
Lull'd by the harp's melodious string, cheerM by 

the northern drum !" 
But Wisdom heard ; " O youth," she said, " in 

passion's fetter tied, 
O come and see a sight with me shall cure thee 

of thy pride !" 
She led me to a lonely dell, a sad and shady 

Where many an ancient sepulchre gleamed in 

the moonshine round. 



And " Here Secunder sleeps," she cried ; — "this 

is his rival's stone ; 
And here the mighty chief reclines who rear'd 

the Median throne. 
Inquire of these, doth aught of all their ancient 

pomp remain, 
Save late regret, and bitter tears forever, and 

in vain 1 
Return, return, and in thy heart engraven keep 

my lore ; 
The lesser wealth, the lighter load— small blame 

betides the poor." 



If thou wert by my side, my love ! 

How fast would evening fail 
In green Bengola's palmy grove 

Listening the nightingale ! 

If thou, my love ! wert by my side, 

My babies at my knee, 
How gaily would our pinnace glide 

O'er Gunga's mimic sea. 

1 miss thee at the dawning gray, 
When, on our deck reclined, 

In careless ease my limbs I lay. 
And woo the cooler wind. 

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream 

My twilight steps I guide, 
But most beneath the lamp's pale beam 

I miss thee from my.side. 

I spread my books, my pencil try^ 

The lingering noon to cheer, 
But miss thy kind approving eye, 

Thy meek attentive ear. 

But when of morn and eve the star 

Beholds me on my knee, 
I feel, though thou art distant far, 

Thy prayers ascend for me. 

Then on ! then on ! where duty leads, 

My course be onward still, 
O'er broad Hindostan's sultry mead, 

O'er bleak Almorah's hill. 

That course, nor Delhi's kingly gates, 

Nor wild Malwah detain, 
For sweet the bliss us both awaits 

By yonder western main. 

Thy towers, Bombay, gleati bright they say, 

Across the dark blue sea, 
But ne'er were hearts so light and gay 
As then shall meet in thee. 


I am rapt, and cannot cover 
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude 
"With any size of words. 

Timon op Athens. 

How peculiarly sad is it for one of 
life's lone wanderers, after a season of 
uncalled-for and unnecessary absence, to 
return to the once loved home of his 
childhood and to the now green graves 
of his ancestors ! Especially is it sad, 

especially is it overwhelmingly painful, 
when a once idolized mother, in conse- 
quence of that absence, is not seen in 
her wonted seat in the old oaken par- 
lor, but has long since gone down to 
the " house of the great departed !" 



Charlie O'Connell was one of these 
lone wanderers. Nor is there a sadder 
and more instructive chapter in all the 
history of human misfortune than his. 
Contrary to his mother's will, he left 
her house, and in the golden prime of 
his youth, went to fling away his life 
with the tawny Mexican on the field of 
carnage and death. Led on by an in- 
satiable thirst for marshal renown, he 
left not the American army, nor ceased 
his busy toils in the cause of his coun- 
try, until the gallant Scott had made his 
grand and imposing entrance into the 
proud and magnificent city of Monta- 
zuma a triumphant conqueror. 

During the progress of the war, in 
consequence of the death of the Cap- 
tain of the cotnpany in which he was a 
common soldier, Charlie O'Connell was 
promoted to the captaincy. His com- 
pany of troops had unbounded confi- 
dence in his ability and courage, and 
his generosity and gentleness of dispo- 
sition won him their warmest affection 
and highest admiration. So soon, how- 
ever, as the war was terminated — so 
soon as further military eclat was hope- 
less, he, flinging away his ambition and 
unbridling his wild passions, went a 
thoughtless and aimless wanderer in the 
late conquered land. Hour after hour, 
day after day, month after month, year 
after year, sped by, and her lost, her 
erring ungrateful boy came not to his 
mother's home. As she sat in her lone 
cottage, or as she roamed over her 
charmless pastures, meadows and fields, 
she often asked herself with a deep, 
heart-drawn sigh : " Where can my 
Charlie be ? Will he not come again ? 
Will he not return to cheer the gloom 
and depression of my spirits and to 
brighten the pale afternoon of my life ? 

Poor boy ! Thoughtless, thankless son ! 
But still I love you, still I remember 
you, still I pray for you. Nor can I 
forget you while my pulse continues to 
beat and my reason is unthroned. Oh ! 
how he tarries ! He wearies me ! And 
the beautiful days of my womanhood 
cannot grow more cheerful and more 
delightful as my life draws nearer 
and nearer the dread gates of Death 
and the bright portals of Heaven, un- 
less he comes to dispel the gloom that 
now overhangs them. Oh ! no ; not 
unless he comes ! Already my days, 
which were in his childhood and young- 
er boyhood, dreamlike and blissful, are 
thickly over clouded, soon, very soon, 
too soon " the last of earth " will have 
come and my dear boy will not have re- 
turned." Thus she sorely, bitterly, 
grievously, wept herself away. 

Three years ago, a little group of 
mourners was seen wending its way 
slowly and sorrowfully towards the ven- 
erable old church, whither Charlie 
O'Connell had often gone, in days past 
on each recurring Sabbath to hear the 
simple but mournful and pathetic story 
of the Cross. 'Twas the funeral pro- 
cession of his poor, widowed, childless, 
broken-hearted mother. Nuper obht. 
Still, he staid. Her grave was growing 
beautifully green ; yet he had not come 
to shed over it the tear of sorrow and 
of repentance. Even those, who had 
dearly loved her while living and who 
now fondly cherished a lively and grate- 
ful remembrance of her when dead, had 
laid aside the habiliments of mourning ; 
yet he had not come to clothe himself 
in sackcloth and to mourn the irrepara- 
ble loss which all had sustained. 

Anon, while he was afar off, wasting 

■ ■ 



his time in thoughtless gayety and 
drunken revelry, there reached him, 
not the sweet prayer of his mother, — 
4 Father, forgive him, for he knows not 
what he does ' — but the sad news of 
her deep affliction and premature death. 
He had returned to his native land, and 
he was then in a low, dark and filthy 
hovel situated on one of the back-streets 
of the Crescent City and was at the 
card-table with a jolly crowd of half- 
intoxicated gamblers. While he was 
perusing the short letter that brought 
him this unexpected and painful news, 
the tear of deep sorrow and keen re- 
gret started from his yet beautiful and 
brilliant black eye. He evidently strove 
to repress it. He folded the letter up 
slowly and thoughtfully and sat for a 
minute as mute as a statue of stone. — 
He was still wrestling with his better 
feelings and nobler faculties. At length, 
having gained a partial victory over 
them, he cried out with a horried oath : 
"On with the game — old Nick himself 
never held a better hand." 

For a few minutes, the game went 
on as briskly as ever, and such oaths 
were uttered as would have made the 
damned in the dismal regions of Hell 
quake and tremble. At every pause, 
the words — " your mother died broken- 
hearted " — would ring in his ear, and 
his hell-black heart would almost break. 
Still he tried to suppress his feelings. — 
He thought with the Archfiend in Mil- 
ton's Paradise Lost that — 

" To be weak is miserable, 
Doing or suffering." 

And the game went on. When, however, 
it came his turn to pay out his hand, his 
comrades noticed that his hand hung 

down so low as to expose every card — 
an unusual thing to be permitted by a 
skilful and practised player — and that 
his face looked pale, wild, expression- 
less, death-like. The game instantly 
stopped and every one sat aghast. No 
one knew the cause of his apparent 
trouble — no one could account for this 
sudden change in their boon compan- 
ion, Charlie O'Connell. Suddenly he 
arose, took his hat, bowed lowly and 
was out of the door before they could 
speak to him, so intense was their sur- 
piise. His heart was too full for ut- 
terance. His grief was a grief that can- 
not speak. Weep he could not, but 
his heart bled. Straightway, he bent 
his course homeward, resolved, if his 
reason and life wore spared him, to 
make as many amends as possible for 
his unspeakably wicked and ungrateful 
conduct. He felt that his mother's 
blood, innocent blood, was on his skirts 
— a guilt almost too deep for redemp- 
tion — an unpardonable sin. 

Over a month of almost insupporta- 
ble torture and self-condemnation had 
passed away, when weary, heart-sick 
and dejected, he entered the now de- 
serted and overgrown yard of his child- 
ish gambols and boyish pranks. How 
changed the spot, bow changed ! Once 
it was busy with life, rich in beauty, 
endeared by love, and decorated with 
the trappings of wealth. Now, how 
wonderfully changed ! Life had fled, 
beauty had faded, love had perished, 
and wealth had vanished. Every door 
was closed, no smoke curled up majes- 
tically from the chimneys, and not a 
sound of human voice was heard. "The 
watch-dog's honest bark, bay deep- 
mouthed, welcomed " him not to his 



native home. Nor was there any eye 
to ma.k his coming and look brighter 
when he came. No. All that could 
have made him happy — all — all was 
gone, forever gone ! Terrible thought ! 
Still more terrible reality ! All gone, 
forever gone ! He now sorrowfully 
cast his eyes over the wide-spread plan- 
tation. What a spectacle did he now 
behold ! 'Twas one wide scene of deso- 
lation and ruin. The inclosures were 
down here and there, fields where the 
golden wheat and yellow corn were 
wont to grow were covered with exube- 
rant weed*, and unknown flocks of cat- 
tle and of sheep were grazing lazily up- 
on them. The fallen greatness and 
mouldering beauty and grandeur of 
once proud and conquering Rome would 
not be more humiliating and distress- 
ing to the eloquent Tully, or the patri- 
otic Cato, could their spirits return to 
that once classic land, than were the de- 
parted beauty, richness and comfort of 
his maternal patrimony to the wild and 
thoughtless Charlie O'Connell. All 
these circumstances opened anew the 
deep gashes in his already bleeding bo- 
som ; and he verily wished from the 
bottom of his heart that he had not 
been born, or that the bud of his be- 
ing,. like that of his angel-sister, had 
been nipped and destroyed in the dewy 
morning of life. 

Still, the worst had not come. Walk- 
ing heavily and tardily towards the door 
be opened it and entered the deserted 
old hall. Oh ! how desolate ! how like 
a chamber of death it looked ! Silent, 
gloomy, deserted ! Near the large, old 
fashioned, cheery-looking fire-place sat 
his mother's old arm-chair, which 
brought with the speed of lightning the 

thought to his mind — how often, when 
wearied with play and childish labor, 
have I come in and thrown myself on 
her lap, while she was sitting in that 
chair, and listened to her kind words 
and gentle teachings, which availed so 
little in keeping me from straying from 
the path of virtue and rectitude. Yet 
again. Hard by on a mahogany stand 
lay the sacred old Family Bible out of 
which, so soon as he had learned to 
read, she used to make him read a chap- 
ter befoie he retired to rest at night; 
and then, on bended knee, she taught 
him the simple but touchingly beautiful 
prayer: "Our father, who art in Heav 
en." And there, too, were her green 
spectacles — which, in mock sport, he 
had often placed before his own bright 
black eyes — apparently as if she had 
just laid them down at night to take 
them up in the morning when she rose 
to go to the duties of day. On seeing 
them, he exclaimed for the first time 
and in all the bitterness of bereavement 
and in all the eloquence of woe, " My 
Mother ! My Mother !!" More, he could 
not speak. Every thing tended to in- 
crease his madness and distraction. — 
Even every foot-fall in that sonorous 
old chamber echoed back not merely the 
beautiful story of his childhood spent 
in innocence, tenderness and love, but 
alai ! the sad story of his wayward, 
wicked boyhood, and even reproached 
him, as it were, with the cold-blooded 
murder of his tender and affectionate 
mother — the utter destruction of the 
single remnant of that once blithesome 
and happy little family. He stood still 
as if he hoped by that means to stop 
these severe lashings of conscience ; but 
the silence was, if possible, even more 



dreadful and more soul-harrowing. — 
Every thing seemed to chime to the aw- 
ful and increasingly sad state of his 
heart ; for a little bird, that just then 
perched on the hanging bough of a gnarl- 
ed old oak, whieh stood by the window, 
out of which, with his mother at his 
side, he had often admiringly watched 
the nimble sports of the lambkins on the 
green, sung a song as plaintive and as 
mournful as the heart-piercing fall of 
clods on the coffin of one we love. The 
sting of death, keen as it is, would have 
been naught compared with the silent, 
secret twitchings of his disturbed con- 
science. But hark ! What did he fan- 
cy that he heard ? Out of the cedar- 
grove just fronting the window came a 
sullenly murmuring wind, which bore 
on its wings his own wild, sportive* 
childish laugh by which he was wont to 
give vent to his delighted feelings while 
frolicingwith thelittle darkies and listen- 
ing to their curious brogue and watching 
their odd capers. Nay, he could, in his 
fervid and vivid imaginings, see his tall, 
graceful and beautiful mother standingin 
the shaded veranda, her face all radiant 
with smiles of approbation and of affec- 
tion. Nor were these half. A thou- 
sand, thousand little and once apparent- 
ly trivial circumstances, which such an 
occasion would naturally call up, were 
piercing his heart like so many merci- 
less daggers. How can a poor frail 
mortal bear such sharp compunctions of 
conscience, such keen remorses? Though 
we cannot tell how, yet he must bear 
them, until he is partially relieved by 
human sympathy, or more effectually 
by death. To whom could Charlie 
O 'Connell fly for relief, or sympathy ? 
There is onb to whom all, from the 

poorest peasant ' to the most lordly 
prince, may go and from whom none 
need return empty and unblessed ; but 
Charlie had wandered so long and so 
far in the crooked path of sin that the 
name, even of that pure and holy being 
had almost passed from his mind. To 
our mothers, in our affliction and dis- 
tress, we seldom, however, forget, or are 
ashamed to go. Nor did Charlie now 
forget his mother ; but his too full and 
too greatly oppressed heart had none 
into whose tender and pure bosom it 
might pour its distress. No ; she wai 
gone. Every thing mysteriously, yet 
plainly admonished him that her spirit 
had fled the earth and that her body 
was consigned to the narrow and silent 
tomb. And why ? Brief, but awful 
question ! His own pale writhing face 
and his own trembling and emaciated 
body were the still more awful answer. 
Oh ! how readily, how willingly would 
he have blotted out the past, had it been 
possible ! He would have given ten 
thousand worlds, had he possessed them, 
could Hugo's remark to his father Azo 
in Lord Byron's Parasina have been 
true that — 

" The past is nothing — and at last 
The future can but be the past!" 

But his own experience taught him 
that this is a mere poetic fiction ; and 
like the mad inebriate who rushes from 
one cup to another and still another to 
dissipate his bitter remembrances — to 
make the past as much a blank as pos- 
sible — this undutiful son, in the wild- 
ness and madness of his despair, turn- 
ed his eye from one thing to another in • 
the hope of meeting with some object 
I which, if it did not erase the past, 



would at least give temporary relief; 

yet every thing served only to heighten' stood a snow-white marble pillar, which 

the certainty and enormity of his guilt 
and ingratitude. Over his face was a 
cloud of sorrow and " in his eye was 
a deep, settled night of anguish." — 
And with drops of blood, as it were, 
trickling from his black guilty heart, 
he turned to go to all that remain- 
ed of that dear, beloved, dead mother 
A few hours brought him to the o 
church. He approached the grave- 
yard, and opening the gate, entered. — 
Suddenly he stopped and cast his eyes 
about him. This city of the dead was 
so thickly peopled — this spectacle was 
so truly mounful ! There lay side by 
side fathers and mothers, brothers and 
sisters, sons and daughters, citizens and 
strangers, all silent as the mute marble 
that tells their births, their deaths and 
their virtues. Like the flowers of the 
field, some were nipped in the bud, 
some when in full bloom, and others 
when faded and withered. And now, 

" The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 
The swallow twittering from the straw-built 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly 

• bed. 
For them no more the blazing hearth shall 

Or busy house-wife ply her evening care ; 
No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share." 

He walked slowly on ; but ere long 
he again stopped and gazed in mute 
abstraction. Bright visions of the past 
rose up to his view, and streams of 
tender thoughts, like cool purling brooks 
in a desert-land, passed rapidly through 
his fevered, disturbed and distracted 
mind, which was now almost barren of 

pleasant remembrances. Before him 

poinded out the final resting place of 
one who, in life, possessed so much 
of beauty, sweetness, loveliness and dig- 
nity, that to see her was to love her. — 
Thoughts of her, who had a few years 
before died so calmly, so gently and so 
happily, were sweet and agreeable com- 
pared with those which the death of 
is mother forced upon him. Emma 
Carelton, the beautiful and accomplish- 
ed mistiess of his proud young heart, 
had been long gone from his gaze ; 

" Oh ! that hallow'd form i3 ne'er forgot 

Which first-love traced ; 
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot 

On memory's waste !" 

Sinking again into the depths of dry 
sorrow and deep despair, he passed on 
still farther in the yard. He had 
scarcely raised his head from his breast, 
when he came in full view of another 
snow-white but larger marble pillar, 
bearing this brief but significant and 
touching inscription : 



A thousand mill-stones, or the hugest 
mountain could not have crushed him 
to the earth sooner than this silent yet 
significant inscription. The question — 
Will you follow her ? — seemed to 
be put directly and purposely to him- 
self. The sad news, which he would 
gladly have before believed untrue, was 
now made doubly sure, and, as he lay 
prostrate on the green mound that hid 
the coffin of his mother from him, he 
wept as son alone could weep and bath- 


NORTH-CAROLINlL university magazine. 

ed and moistened the rich verdure wi 
his warm and copious tears. Now, for 
the first time in many a long season, a 
thought of his good and beloved father, 
who breathed his last in the magnifi- 
cent city of Paris, while on a business 
tour to France, came into his mind. — 
But this only added to the cup of his 
grief and misery by reminding him tfoaj; 
he was, after his father's death, the sol 
stay and support of his family. Stil 
this cup was not full and could not yet 
pass. The image of one, whose bright 
face and lovely form were daguerreotyp- 
ed in his very heart and who had been 
before his mind's eye ever since she ex- 
pired on his mother's bosom in the 
old oaken hall, came up, as was its 
wont, to woo his heart from the vain 
pleasures and enticing evils of earth to 
the beauties, comforts and glories of a 
blissful and perpetual Paradise. He 
well remembered her final resting-place. 
'Twas near at hand. There, just at his 
right was the short grave of little Liz- 
zie O'Connell, at the head of which 
stood a smsll, slender, polished marble 
column, the top of which was broken 
off as indicative of the frailty of life. — 
He read the sweet inscription, which he 
and his mother had chosen for the 
grave-stone of this lovely little child — 
angel : 

" Weep not for her, — in her spring-time she 

To that land where the wings of the soul are 

And now, like a star beyond evening's cold 

Looks radiantly down on the tears of this 


What a sorrowful panorama • were 
these all ! There were continually pass- 

ing before his mind the manly and dig- 
ified form of his noble father, who 
perished while increasing the fortune 
which might have made his mother and 
himself happy during a long life, had 
he done his duty as a wise son, the im- 
age of his sweet little sister Lizzie whom 
he last saw as she lay on his mother's 
lap, her little head nestled in her moth- 
's bosom and her dark rich curls fall- 
ng loosely and carelessly around her 
angelic face and snowy neck, waiting 
the summons of the Redeemer of man- 
kind : " Come unto me ; for of such is 
the kingdom of Heaven," and more 
dreadful still, the form of a grief-strick- 
en and heart-broken mother, the victim 
of his own sinful and damning conduct, 
which form was to him a tormentor as 
" fierce as ten furies and terrible as 
Hell." Man's stout and stubborn heart 
can bear up against much ; but such a 
burden of grief as this was enough to 
have crushed the stoutest and the most 
stubborn. Poor Charlie ! — so great 
was the mental suffering, which he had 
experienced, that the light of his reason 
was well nigh extinguished. With a 
wild and horrid shriek of anguish and 
despair, he arose from the grave of his 
mother and going out of the church- 
yard, be passed into a thick and inter- 
minable woodland hard by the church 
a complete and hopeless maniac. 

The news of his long and anxiously 
expected return was scattered abroad 
and brought joy to every heart in the wide 
circle of his acquaintance. Many days 
passed, still no one had as yet seen the 
lost son. Some visited his cottage- 
home, but could not find him there. — 
All were anxious to meet up with him 
in order to speak words of cheer, conso- 



lation and hope to him ; but it was now 
too late as was soon proved. Qne of 
his worthy, venerable and much esteem- 
ed neighbors, with whom he once de- 
lighted to converse, chanced to meet 
him near his cottage-home one day and 
began a conversation with him ; but the 
only response he received was a ghastly 
demoniacal grin more disagreeable and 
horrific than the unendurable sardoni- 
cus risus produced by eating the her- 
ba sardonica. He looked so terribly 
frantic and so dreadfully mad that the 
old man left him with an aching heart 
and tearful eye. He was truly an ob- 
ject of pity and tears. 

" Weep not pale moralist o'er desert plains, 
Strewed with the wreck of grandeur's moulder- 
ing fanes, 
Arches of triumph long with weeds o'er grown, 
And regal cities — now the serpent's own; 
Earth has more dreadful ruins — one lost mind, 
Whose star is quenched, has lessons for man- 
Of deeper import than each prostrate dome 
Mingling its marble with the dust of Home." 

Before many days sped and were 
numbered with the past, the wild rav- 
ings of the unfortunate Charlie O'Con- 
nell, which from the first were alarm- 
ing to his neighbors, so much increased 
that it was absolutely necessary that he 
should he confined. Though it was so 
essential to peace and security, yet his 
confinement was a circumstance much 
to be regretted, lest the darkness and 
loneliness of the prison-house should 
render still less hopeful the restoration 
of his wrecked and lost intellect. Now, 
he no longer madly roams the fields of his 
childish and boyish sports, no longer is 
he seen walking around the loved and 
enchanted old cottage of his mother, no 
longer, sitting on her grave does he sigh 

and weep and rave and curse ; but, like 
the prisoned wild beast of the forest, 
he looks through the iron door of his 
lonely, narrow and dismal cell and wild- 
ly shrieks, loudly screams and piteously 
howls. His face is the picture of deep 
and settled despair and his action that 
of an unforunate madman ; and every 
day but deepens this look of despair, 
and every moment but increases this 
hopelessness of the restoration of his 
right reason. The morning of his 
existence is past — the hope of his 
life is gone, the anticipation of fu- 
ture glory and eminence is disap- 
pointed, his reason is dethroned, his rich 
patrimony is as valueless as self-right- 
eousness, his condition is indiscribably 
miserable and his soul is eternally damn- 
ed. He has, however, lucid intervals 
when his madness seems to be entirely 
gone, and then, gentle, docile and ami- 
able, he talks of the sweet little maid 
whose affections clustered around his 
own stout and proud heart in child- 
hood's sunny days like the tender vine 
around the tall and stalwart oak. But 
ere he would talk long on this mournful- 
ly beautiful theme, his eyes would begin 
to grow wild and terrible and the maniac 
smile and expression to settle down on his 
whole face, and he would shrink back and 
scream as if legions of devils were ap- 
pearing before him. 'Twas the ghost 
of his murdered mother more dreadful 
an horrid than that of Ban quo before 
Macbeth The Tantalus of his being, 
the dethroner of his reason, it came to 
torment and torture him so that when 
he has passed through the gloomv val- 
ley of life and the still gloomier valley 
of death, he may not be unable to work 
out the awful penalty of his unparallel- 



ed guilt. So it seems that he is destin- 
ed to dream that dream which knows 
no waking, and finally to welter through 
endless ages on the burning marl of the 
infernal regions with no other compan- 
ions than the devils and the damned. 

Young reader, think of Charlie O'Con- 
nell and steer your bark over the un- 
tried and trackless sea of your opening 
manhood so as to avoid the fatal rock 
on which was split the vessel of all his 
hopes of happiness on earth and of bliss 
in Heaven. You cannot be more high- 
ly favored by fortune, nor, perhaps, 
more eminently endowed by nature. — 
He was born and cradled in wealth, 
had a superior mind and a brilliant 
imagination, had a pious mother to lead 
his tender young feet in the path of 
truth, holliness and happiness, had an 
excellent father, whom had he taken as 
his model, he might have been good, 
useful, great and distinguished, and, 
. above all, he had a dear angel-sister, 
who died years bsfore, apparently that 
she might teach him how calmly and 
how sweetly a pure and devoted chris- 
tian can die — that she might ever be 
to him a memorial of the shortness of 
life and of the certainty of death — that 
she might be a golden chain drawing 
him nearer and nearer the mercy seat 
of the Eternal God. 

Call up the beautiful story of George 
Washington, " the purest of the pure 
and the brightest of the bright," and 
contrast it with that of Charlie O'Con- 
nell. How unlike, how vastly differ- 
ent they are ! The great and good 
Washington was perhaps, not so high- 
ly favored in many respects as was the 
wicked and wild Charlie O'Connell; 
but he was always dutiful, always con- 

siderate, always affectionate. There 
was, however, in his young bosom a 
craving desire for the " bubble reputa- 
tion." Once on a time, his young am- 
bition led him to think of leaving his 
home and of forgetting his mother, that 
he might gratify this desire, but, so 
soon as he learned from her that it was 
contrary to her wishes, he cheerfully 
gave up all his fondest anticipations and 
ruthlessly tore down all the gilded cas- 
tles of ocean renown and naval glory 
which his lively imagination had rear- 
ed up heaven-high and willingly sub- 
mitted to the counsels of his great and 
good mother. 

Charlie O'Connell had been all that 
Washington was befove his ambition 
began to press and urge him to t he 
field of blood and martial glory. No 
doubt he wished to be a Washington, 
but, like Napoleon, he took a wrong 
step. A very different one from the 
great Corsician, but nevertheless a wrong 
step. He chose to climb the ladder of 
honor at the cost of the tears, broken- 
heartedness and life of his mother, and 
at the close of the war, feeling that he 
had ungraciously insulted his mother's 
wishes and counsels, he was ashamed 
to return to her ; and, that he might 
dissipate the bitterness of his remorse, 
he suffered dissipation to seduce his 
ambition which before was not so chaste 
as lofty. 

Young, ambitious reader, this is no 
idle story. 'Tis acted over day after 
day. Then profit by it. And so live, 
" that when the evening of life comes, 
you may sink to rest with the clouds 
that close in your departure gold-tipped 
with the glorious effulgence of a well- 
spent life." 




This is the significant title of a pam- 
phlet written by one Mark Lemon, and 
first performed Saturday, April 24th, 
1852. It has seldom been our good- 
fortune to have perused a dramatic piece 
with so much pleasure and general 
satisfaction as this. The author is, no 
doubt, a true philanthropist, and wrote 
this interesting drama for the benefit of 
his fellow-man, to instruct them in the 
riorht ways, and to warn man from " er- 
ror's path." This world is one vast 
stage where every one plays his own 
part, and " mind your own business " 
may be regarded as a faithful daguerreo- 
type of it. There is truthfully 
portrayed the many conflicting emo- 
tions that agitate different classes of 
men. There may be met the various 
characters with whom we associate eve- 
ry day of our lives. There we find ex- 
emplified the want and necessity of con- 

The character of Mr. Odiman, the man 
who wished to mind his own business 
but couldn't, because he had within him 
an unfortunate desire to be always med- 
dling with what concerned him not, is 
admirably sketched. Kind reader, if 
you feel that you have a propensity like 
unto poor Odiman, — if the cap fits, let 
me recommend this little book to your 
diligent attention. Read, and inwardly 
digest it. 

God never implanted in the generous 
Vol. Ill— 36. 

heart of man such a disposition that it 
cannot refrain from interfering in the 
affairs of other men if it would. He 
never gave His similitude such propen- 
sities, — but meddlers may be justly con- 
sidered as living in a world Of their own 
creating, a world not made by the Al- 
mighty, but the work of their own pro- 
ductive imaginations. 

Man is a sociable being naturally, but, 
in certain communities of our beloved 
State, the people are at daggers' points 
because of this detestable habit of slan- 
dering one another. We were placed 
here to be a comfort and a blessing to 
our fellows, and not to be continually 
making turmoil and strife, as some seem 
to suppose. 

Trust not, dear reader, to appear- 
ances, — they decieve. Before you form 
your associations, be certain you know 
your man. Persons may appear to be 
your sinceie friends, but, after your 
back is turned, you are slandered most 
outrageously, and called a fool because 
you seemed to swallow all the flattery 
and non-sense they had a mind to throw 
into your dish. A Roman priest once 
compared a hazel-nut to all other de- 
nominations, the nut itself being his 
own church. When the nut was brok- 
en open it was found to be rotten. — 
Every one is sincere in himself alone, 
but on the entrance of a second person, 
he feels he is insecure, — then it is hy- 



pocvisy begins, — then it is he feels he 
is to be made a dupe;, and is not this 
natural, when he sees around him so 
much deceit, so many false pretentions? 
Can one feel otherwise when he sees 
others so misled, so deluded ! It is a 
very easy matter to cast the gaudy and 
glittering mantle of friendship on the 
broad shoulders of the foulest hypocri- 
sy, — to imitate the lion in sheep's cloth- 
ing. 'Tis a very easy thing to make 
high-sounding pretences under the hum- 
ble garb of devotion, but listen to the 
words of the great Shakspeare, the 
analizer of the human feelings and pas- 
sions, in short, humanity's personifica- 
tion : 

" 'Tis too much proved, that with devotion's 

And pious action, we do sugar o'er 
The devil himself." 

Reader, you may make human na- 
ture your study, you may search crea- 
tion through, arid scrutinize the ac- 
tions of mankind, and you will see those 
who make the greatest pretentions and 
perform them least, to be those who 
are always interfering in other men's 
business. 'Tis there the baser feelings 
of man's nature dwell. 'Tis this class 
of people who are always in a ferment 
and keep society so. 'Tis here the hawk 
dwells which feels he is not able to 
contain himself in the bounds allotted 
to him by his Creator, but is obliged to 
soar beyond them for tho sake of prey. 

If every one would be generous 
enough to own his faults we could the 
more readily forgive them ; but this one 
will say, " / don't meddle in other peo 
pie's affairs," when he does, — he is be- 
yond forgiveness. Would it not be 
better to exclaim as poor Odiman in the 

play: "I really wish I could mind my 
own business : I am constitutionally 
meddlesome," You, reader, may be 
unconscious of any fault in yourself, 
but you can see it in others, or, per- 
haps, you know it but wont confess it ; 
if the latter, why persevere ? why not 
endeavor to work a change ? why do a 
thing you are ashamed to confess ? why 
"know the wrong, and still the wrong- 
pursue VI 

There are others who see faults in 
others which they themselves possess, 
but, perhaps, know it not. Pope has 
said, "know thyself," and any one who 
observes in others the infirmities of his 
own mind, and does not endeavor to 
correct them, has an ill-regulated mind, 
to say the least. 

" Physician, heal thyself," is an old 
adage and contains the best advice. If 
you think yourself above doing a mean 
act, why note your own weaknesses in 
your fellows ? You cannot blame him 
for doing what you do. 

There are men who will berate their 
neighbours from time to time, and if 
asked, shortly afterwards, if they ever 
do the like, they answer, " No," and 
why do they thus unhesitatingly re- 
turn you this answer ? Either because 
they do not consider ^ what they say of 
enough importance to be remembered, 
or because they have become so habit- 
uated to select the weak points of oth- 
ers to criticise that it has become a se- 
cond nature, and is forgotten as soon as 

If any one can tell us what benefit is 
derived from slander we would be glad 
to hear. It has been said, " All things 
are for the best," but the proverb is 
falsified in a case of this character. If 



any good has ever been accomplished ! 
in this way, or any benefit, accrued to 
the human race, it has not been handed 
down to posterity among the miracles, 
and we are to suppose that if no ad- 
vantage has ever been derived, none 
ever will. 

There is another class of men who 
will take its best friends for enemies. — 
One can be pardoned lor wishing to 
have as little to do with such people as 
possible ; one can be excused for be- 
lieving " this world is all a fleeting 
show." 'Tis natural to feel the truth 
of the saying, " Evil communications 
corrupt good manners." It is a very 
great pleasure to pay a social visit to a 
friend if one can feel that he is welcome, 
but if he knows his entertainer is a ser- 
pent who will plunge his fangs into his 
character when he is gone, he feels 
uneasy all the time. Let us all be as 
open-hearted and candid as Smythe in 

the play : 

" Mrs. S. Smythe. How can you 
proceed in this way before my friends ?" 

Smythe. Because I won't say any- 
thing behiud their backs I won't say to 
their faces." 

If a gentleman chooses t© dye his 
whiskers, what business is it of yours, 
reader ? What right have you to go 
to your neighbor and say such and-such 
a man is getting to be exceedingly 
proud ? What is the use of making so 
much ado about a matter of such little 
importance to you ? If it is any of your 
business, it is everybody's business, and 
what's everybody's business is nobody's 
business. Instead of gaining for your- 
self an honorable name, as you expect, 
by such proceedure, you are exposing 
yourself most egregiously. People will 

say it all arises from the very things 
all Christians are continually praying 
against, such as envy, hatred, malace, 
uncharitableness, hypocricy, and discon- 
tent, selfishness, jealousy, and the like. 
If it is your desire really to injure your 
neighbour, you go to work in a very 
unwise and unpolitic manner. Why 
not do as Arbaces did in the last days 
of Pompeii, when he wished to ruin his 
rival in the eyes of his beautiful mistress : 
" But Arbaces was no less cautious not 
to recur to a subject which he felt it was 
the most politic to treat as of the light- 
est importance. He knew that by 
dwelling much upon the feults of a ri- 
val, you only give him dignity in the 
eyes of your mistress. The wisest plan 
is neither loudly to hate, nor bitterly to 
condemn, but to lower him by an indif- 
ference of tone. Your safety is in con- 
cealing the wound to your own pride." 
This is the manner of acting if you 
wish to degrade your fellow in the eyes 
of a third person. Some of us display 
very little tact when engaged in this 
loathsome business. 

He who engages in such sport is not 
probably aware of the terrible denuncia- 
tions against him in the Bible. Take 
heed unto the sayings of Holy Writ : 
" W T hoso keepeth his mouth and tongue, 
keepeth his soul from troubles. " A 
good name is rather to be chosen than 
much riches." "He that goeth about as 
a tale-bearer, revealeth secrets." " H 
that hideth hatred with lying lips, and 
he that uttereth a slander against his 
neighbor is a fool." "In the multitude 
of words there wanteth not sin ; bul 
he that refraineth his lips is wise." "I 
is as sport to a fool to do mischief." U J 
hypocrite with his mouth destroyed 



his neighbour." " He that is void of 
wisdom despiseth his neighbour." "A 
man of understanding holdeth his 
peace." " Whoso diggeth a pit shall 
fall therein," &c. 

Reader, let us strive henceforth to re- 
frain from this hateful practice, and use 
our endeavors for promoting the wel- 
fare and harmony ©f all men. Let us 
endeavor to do our fellow-man as much 
service as we can, an& if we see any one 
going down hill, let us refrain from giv- 
ing him an extra kick. One would be 
led to believe, from the way things are 
carried on in certain communities of our 
State, that there is an irresistible im- 
pulse in all to do as much mischief as 
possible. Let not such things be ; it 
would be much more pleasant to all 
mankind if everybody would attend to 
his own business, and let that of others 
alone, if every one would look into his 
own heart and make the necessary cor- 
rections there. Attend to the words of 
the poet : 

"Judge not, frail man, thy fellow-man, 
Lest thou thyself be weighed, 

And wanting be in those dread scales, 
Th' Eternal God has made." 

Let -no such sentiment as, " Stand 
back, I am holier than thou," pervade 
our so-called social circles, but " dwell 
together in harmony, and illustrate by 
our deeds how sweet it is for men to 
dwell together in unity." This world 
was made for the enjoyment of all, and 
one has as much right to enjoy it as 

another, and why seek to deprive him 
of that inestimable boon ? Why en- 
deavor to embitter his cup of life with 
wormwood ? What it the use of seek- 
ing to destroy the little comfort allot- 
ted to man here ? A spirit like this is 
the greatest curse the devil ever im- 
planted in man. In conclusion, let us 
draw your attention to the words of M. 
W. Beck : 

The world is not as bad a world 

As some would like to make it ; 
Though whether good or whether bad 

Depends on how we take it ; 
For if we fret and scold all day, 

From dewy morn till even, 
This world will ne'er afford to man 

A foretaste here of Heaven. 

The world's in truth as good a world 

As e'er was known to any 
Who have not seen another yet — I 

And these are very many ; 
And if the men and women too, 

Have plenty of employment, 
Those surely must be hard to please 

Who cannot find enjoyment. 

This world is quite a clever world, 

In rain or pleasant weather, 
If people would but learn to live 

In harmony together; 
Nor seek to burst the kindly bond 

By love and peace cemented, 
And learn the best of lessons yet, 
To always be contented. 

Then were the world a pleasant world, 

And pleasant folks were in it, 
The day would pass most pleasantly 

To those who thus begin it, 
And all the nameless grievances, 

Brought on by borrowed troubles^ 
Would prove, as certainly they are 

A mass of empty bubbles. 

A . S./3 




The best opening for a Newspaper 
and Printing-establishment in North 
Carolina. — Four years ago, at the wish 
of our fathers and friends, or at our own 
suggestion and inclination, we came to 
this place to acquire an education. Dur- 
ing our temporary residence here we have 
not been wholly unobservant, but have 
seen much to interest and instruct us. — 
Among other things, we have noticed with 
delight the steady and rapid growth of 
this pleasant and classic village. A more 
beautiful and healthful locality for a liter- 
ary institution could not have been found 
within the bounds of the State. Nor can 
we refrain from expressing our admira- 
. tion ©f the taste of those excellent men 
who allowed themselves to be so much 
enamored of its beauties, when they were 
taking refreshment under that aged old 
poplar which a student has immortalized 
in song, as to select it for the permanent 
location of the State University. That 
persons, at a distance, who know but lit- 
tle and care less about this retreat of 
learning, this student-home of Southern 
young men, may have some better idea of 
its pleasantness and interest, we will sim- 
ply add to what has been said in previous 
numbers of the Magazine, that there are 
here eight stores, three tailor shops, sev- 
eral bakeries, a drug-store, two public 
houses, eight boarding houses, three 
handsome churches and one in the act of 
being built, a number of new and very 
elegant private residences and as intelli- 
gent and refined society as can be found 
anywhere. And every year families of 
intelligence and distinction are coming 

hither to reside, and in a few years, we 
believe that this place will be the resort 
of many who have made their fortunes, 
are tired of the bustle of the world and 
wish to enjoy learned and elegant leisure. 
But although this place has improved 
much and is now in a very thriving con- 
dition, yet some of the very best oppor- 
tunities to make a fortune are unoccupied, 
are open to the industrious and enterpris- 
ing man. In the belief that these are un- 
known to the public generally, if not uni- 
versally, we have been induced to make 
these remarks and those which follow. 

Almost every little village, or town, 
that dots the hills and vallies of ihe State, 
has its printing-press and puny or thriv- 
ing newspaper, and yet Chapel Hill has 
none. Some places have two, three, lour 
and even as high as nine newspapers. — 
Salisbury has two ; Greensborough has 
three and three more in embryo ; Fayette- 
ville three ; Raleigh nine ; and Wilming- 
ton and a host of other places have — we 
don't know how many. Can they all be 
liberally patronized ? Can they all make 
their meat and bread, and suppor f and 
educate the little ones with whom their 
proprietors may and have been blessed ? 
Can any of them get rich ? We confident- 
ly and unhesitatingly answer, no. In- 
stead of putting up a printing-press where 
there are others and begging the good 
people who are taking papers printed in 
that same place to subscribe to theirs, 
why do they not inquire for a place in 
which there is no newspaper, lots of job- 
printing and numbers of people who want 
a paper of their own? "We don't know. — 



Suppose they were to turn their eyespr 
on this place — on Chapel Hill. What 
are the inducements for an experienc- 
ed Editor to come here, establish a 
printing-office and publish a large and 
handsome newspaper ? And are they 
the same that they are in all places 
of the same size or even larger in 
or out of the State] No — they are not 
the same — they are vastly superior, if 
an experienced and talented editor would 
come here and purchase new and yery 
fine type, he might issue a literary, or 
political paper which would receive the 
patronage of at least one thousand indi- 
viduals. The job-printing of the villagers, 
an intelligent merchant has told us, would 
be not less than three hundred, dollars. — 
The Faculty, who are anxious that there 
should be a printer here, have a College 
catalogue printed every year, which is a 
job worth one hundred dollars, not to 
mention a great deal of other minor job- 
printing. There is generally an Address 
before the Alumni Association which is 
published, and if it could be neatly done 
here would be very convenient and desira- 
ble. The two Literary Societies have 
no inconsiderable amount of job-print- 
ing, and one of them has the Address 
before the two Societies at Commence- 
ment published, which is worth one hun- 
dred dollars. Each has a Society catalo- 
gue published every ten years, but which, 
if it could be published mere convenient- 
ly, would doubtless be done oftener — and 
this job is worth one hundred and fifty 
dollars each. Besides the Ball-managers 
have tickets struck off annually, which 
costs them not less than seventy -fire dol- 
lars. And in addition to all these, there 
is the publication of the North Car- 
olina University Magazine, which is not 
dead and does not intend to die, un- 
til the last spark of generous and 
enlightened patriotism is extinguished, 
until there is not one jot or tittle of State- 
pride in our young men. Hitherlo the 

( ] the Magazine has cost $750 a 
volume, a very fair price for the labor be- 
stowed ; but let us not be misunderstood. 
We are not at all disposed to grumble at 
the price paid for its publication, not at 
all ; but we think a printing establishment 
here, all things considered, would be more 
conducive to the interest, appearance and 
correctness of the Magazine. Though 
it has reached a healthy and vigorous 
manhood and has been able to raise its 
character as a literary periodical to a 
height that is not to be despised or sneer- 
ed at, yet in reaching this position it has 
had much, very much to contend with 
and against. There has never been a 
number issued as yet that did not contain 
a great many typographical errors, which 
were mortifying to the authors of the ar- 
ticles and to the Editors of the Magazine. 
But they were unavoidable, as the public 
must know ; for the Magazine has, ever 
since its debut in the literary world, been 
published in Raleigh, and, consequently? 
the proofs could not all be corrected with- 
out great inconvenience to the publisher 
and without delaying its issue greatly be- 
yond the proper time. 

Are there no Editors in or out of the 
State that would better their condition ? 
If the hintis in their papers to their sub- 
scribers for a little money are sincerely 
made, we imagine there are a few. Would 
they have health? Here is the place. — 
Would they enjoy good and refined socie- 
ty? Here is the place. Would they 
make a fortune easily and quickly? Here 
is the place. Would they give their chil- 
dren a good academic and collegiate edu- 
cation ? Here is the place. Rouse up r 
then, rouse up, ye sleepy, stupid, money- 
less, children-blessed, desponding and 
hopeless Editors, come to the University 
at next Commencement or very soon af- 
terwards and see the chance there is to 
make a fortune and at the same time have 
a home in one of the choicest spots under 
heaven. v 



Sexior-Speaklkg. — Being of the num- 
ber cf those who figured on this occasion, 
modesty forbids us to say much or any- 
thing complimental on this subject. Nor 
need we say much, were it proper ; for one, 
whose province it is and who knows far 
better, has said all that is necessary. The 
distinguished President of the University 
remarked at the close of the exercise that 
he had been here eighteen and a half years 
and had witnessed nineteen senior-speak- 
ings and that he was prepared to say that 
the speeches of no previous class would 
on an average compare favorably with 
those of the present one. For the pleas- 
ure of each member of the class and of 
those whom it may concern, we give the 
subject of each gentleman's speech and 
in the order in which it was spoken. 

Joseph Hill Weight, Wilmington. 
Novel writing. 

Joux Kikklaxd Rcffix, Alamance. 
The Press and Politicians. 

John Gray Blount Grimes, Raleigh. 

Bryan Whitfield, Tallahassee, Fla. 
Pacific Railroad. 

Johx Neal, Louisburg. 
Intrinsic Worth. 

Johx Samuel Chambers, Montgomery. 
Can America excel in fine Literature. 

James All ax Wright, Wilmington. 
" Beings of mind are not of Clay." 

Daxiel Iversox Brooks, Forsythe. 
Day-dreaming, or the Real versus the Imag- 

Oscar Ripley Raxd, Raleigh. 
The growth of English Liberty. 

Joseph Masters Bell, Jackson, Ark. 
" I am his Highness' dog at Kew ; 
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you ?" 
William Hexry Spexcer, Hyde. 
Our Fanaticisms. 

Theophjlus Perry, Harrison, Texas. 
Abuse of Public Men. 
Robert Moderwell Sloan - , Greensboro'. 
National Ingratitude. 

William Robards Wetmore, Fayetteville. 
The Valley of Wyoming. 

Jas. Archibald Montgomery, Abbeville, S. C. 
The Spring-time of Life. 

Johx Mcrdock Morrisox, Richmond. 
Love of Fame as a Principle of Action. 
Johx Mariox Callaway, Rockingham. 
What will Mrs. Grundy say? 

Delaxo Whitixg Hcsted, Raleigh. 
English Operatives and African Slaves. 

William Lee Alexaxdee, McDowell. 
Women's Rights. 

Johx Henry Bullock, Person. 
The Educated Man. 

Johx Hampdex Hill, Wilmington. 
" Where shall we find their like again ?" 

Hayne Elxathex Davis, Iredell. 
Mutability of human glory. 

Edward Bradford, Tallahasee, Fla. 
Religious Fanaticism. 

Joshua Cochrax Walker, Wilmington. 

Julius Feaxklix Allisox, Orange. 
Pierre Soule. 

James William Jacobs, Northampton. 
Napoleon and Washington — a contrast. 

John William Saxdford, Jr., Fayetteville. 
Andrew Jackson. 

Richard Bradford, Tallahassee, Fla. 
The French Revolution. 
William Charles Nichols, New Berne, Ala. 
iufluence of society upon Individual char- 

Edward Livingston Faison, Sampson. 
"Big Blues" of Sampson. 

William Hexry Thomson, Sampson. 
The War of 1812. 
Albert Kimbrough Graham, Memphis, Tenn. 
Sargeant S. Prentiss. 

Ivey Foreman Lewis, Pitt. 
Modern Discoveries. 
William Lawrence Saunders, Chapel Hill. 

Popular Education. 
Thomas Colegate Dennis, Sumter Dis., S.C. 
Freedom of Thought. 
John Campbell McKethan, Cumberland. 
Robert Emmet. 

William Badham, Jr., Edenton. 
National Monuments. 

William Henry Buxx, Nash. 
National Monuments. 
Richard Henry Battle, Jr., Chapel Hill. 

Robert Bruce Johnston, Haywood Co., 
Farming Interest of North Carolina. 

William Leak Ledbetter, Anson. 
Then and Now— What next? 
Sa3iuel Spencer Jackson, Jr., Pittsboro'. 
Are all men born with equal minds 1 

William Stephens Long, Yanceyville. 
Necessity, the Mother of Invention. 
John Probert Cobb, Wayne, 
Rip Van Winkle. 

Richard Benbury Saunders, Chapel Hill. 
American Literature. 

Needham Bryan Cobb, Wayne. 
Corruption of Public Men. 

William Lafayette Scott, Guilford. 
The Elements of True Greatness. 

Rufus Scott, Greensborough. 
The Past— its Echo. 

John Duncan Shaw, Richmond. 
Future Prospects of the Union. 



John Williams Graves, Caswell. 
Ambition not a passion of mean men. 

David Gillespie Robeson, Bladen. 
Be true to Thyself. 

Leonidas John Merritt, Chatham. 
Practical Improvement. 

Enoch Jasper Vann, Madison, Ela. 
Injudicious haste in the study of the Law. 
John Barr Andrews, Greensborough. 
Small fish, how they flounder. 

William Thompson, Edenton. 
American Poetry. 

Joseph Pickett Jones, Anson. 
The Lawyer. 

Charles W. Phifer, Coffeeville, Miss. 
Influence of the physical upon the national 

Joseph Adolphus Engelhard, Jackson, Miss. 
" Dust to dust." 

James Cameron Moore, Jackson, Miss. 
Political corruption. 

Theodore Whitfield, Hinds, Miss. 
Whilst we live, let us live. 

Silakesperian Paiody. — We are ob- 
liged to our friend Joetbu Sandyside for 
the ingenious and felicitous parodic solilo- 
quy of his and " our acquaintance," as he 
phrases it. We willingly give it a place 
in our Table : 

Messrs. Editors : A young man of our ac- 
quaintance, having been frequently importuned 
by his " lady love" to cut off his whiskers, he 
determined to take the matter into serious con- 
sideration. Retiring to his room,heseated him- 
self in a huge arm-chair, threw his feet upon 
the fender and thus soliloquized : 

u To shave, ©r not to shave! that's the ques- 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
The beard to grow upon the face divine, 
Or to take arms against a world of hair 
And by the az e ' t. To clip, to cut 
No more, — but by a shave to say we end 
The burthen and the inconvenient load 
The face is heir to. 'Tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. — To clip, to cut: — 
To cut! perchance to gash; — ay! there's the 

For in that gash, what blood there may be 

When we have shorn the face of all its beard 
Must give us pause. There's the respect 
That makes it such a dangerous thing to shave. 
But who would bear the hootings of shaved 

The shaveling scorn, the smooth man's irony, 
The pangs of love dispised, since women will 

Not marry men who on their face have hair ? 
Who will then suffer all these bitter taunts, 
When he might easily escape them all 
With a bare razor? Who would whiskers 

To grunt and sweat under a heavy beard? 
But there's the dread of taking a bad cold, 
Or the consumption, from whose dread em- 
No patient recovers. This puzzles the will 
And makes me rather wear the beard I have 
Than run the risk attendant on a shave. 
Thus prudence does make hairy men of us ; 
And thus the native color of our faces 
Is darkened over with a full-grown beard : — 
And men who else would be like maidens fair 
Have all their faces covered o'er with hair 
And lose the love of women." - 

Another Parody. — In looking over the 
Greensborough Patriot, our eyes were ar- 
rested by this fine effusion of our old ac- 
quaintance and contributor, St. Clare Ves- 
per. So much genius and poetic fire run 
through it that, if we can help it, we will 
not willingly let it die. If you have not 
read it, read it — if you have, read it again : 

On Tom Moore's "Farewell; out when- 
ever you welcome the hour.' 1 '' 


Farewell ; but if ever I welcome the hour 

When the "Maine Liquor Law" shall throw 
o'er me its power, 

I will think of the glad hours my spirits once 

When it lost its deep grief, sparkling brimmer, 
in you; 

My griefs may return, not a drop may remain 

Of the spirits that threw their sweet beams on 
my brain, 

But I ne'er will forget the bright visions that 

O'er my loved sparkling brimmer, while linger- 
ing with you. , 

And oft at the time when joy should fill up 
" To the highest top sparkle each heart and 

each cup " 
I'll be dry as a bone, and, while in that sad 

My love shall then dream with what savage de- 
Old Gormcm has tried all our liquor to " spiU," 
And banished the cause of so many a smile ; 



Ah, I'll bless Mm, and tell him, with hearty 

good cheer, 
If there's a still warmer climate, I wish he were 


Let Deems do his worst ; tho' the cup of our 

He may dash from our hands and the spirits 

Yet 0, 'twill be sweet, in that moment of pain, 
To know that John Trainer can fill it again, 
long be my jug with such good spirits filled 
As we get from Nick "Williams, just freshly dis- 
tilled ; 
You may break, you may shatter, the jug, if 

you will, 
But I'll buy me another and larger one still. 

Greensboro', April 16, 1854. 

North Carolina in 1854. — In our last 
number some account was given of a rave 
volume, containing Hariot's account of the 
results of the first English Expedition to 
Carolina, under the auspices of Sir Walter 
Ealeigh. We have thought that a brief de- 
scription of the contents of that volume 
would be not unacceptable to our readers. 
We ought, perhaps, to premise that the 
relation of Hariot was written in English, of 
which the volume before us was the first 
translation into Latin, and that the Latin 
version was dedicated to his most serene 
Highness Maximilian, King of Poland, 
&c, &c. The information it contains 
about the newly-found regions is in some 
respects less than might have been expect- 
ed, as it seems to have been prepared quite 
as much to stop the mouths of gainsay- 
ers as to encourage the adventurers. The 
work is divided into three principal parts : 
the first relating to the advantages for 
commerce in Virginia, the second to the 
means of subsistence there, and the last 
mainly to' the manners, condition, &c, of 
the natives. Among the indigenous pro- 
ductions are Herba Sericea (cotton ?) silk 
worms, flax and hemp, pitch, tar and tur- 
pentine of course, a species of medicinal 
chalk, called Wapeih by the natives, two 
species of vines, one very fine, two sorts 

of nuts, and three of berries producing 
oil, and bears in the same wayserviceable. 
Otters, deer, bears and grey squirrels are 
the principal animals. The natives are 
said to hunt and eat Lions, Pearls, though 
of inferior quality, many species of gums, 
medicinal and dye stuffs were found. Of 
minerals, the chief were iron and copper. 
As the latter is an article of much inter- 
est in our day, and many mining schemes 
are now on foot, we copy the brief notice 
our author gives of it. " Having gone an 
hundred and fifty miles towards the inte- 
rior of the country, we found among the 
natives in two towns, numbers of small 
round plates of copper, which as we learn- 
ed were made by some who lived still 
further on, where as they related were 
mountains and streams, that produced 
pieces of a white metal, like silver. That 
the fact is so, may be proved by what I 
with some others saw when we first came 
in that region ; since we observed two 
small fragments of silver, rather rudely 
shapen, hanging from the ears of a chief, 
who lived some eighty miles from our for- 
tress. When we asked of him how many 
days' journey off was the place whence he 
had them, I learned that he received them 
from that place or a nearer one, in which 
copper and white pieces of metal were 
found. This copper, as was learned by 
trial contained some silver also." 

Hardly any topic is more fully treated 
than this of copper. The descriptions of 
plants and vegetables are often so indefinite 
or imperfect, that it is not easy for us to 
identity even the genus. Maize was called 
by the natives Pagatowr ; and Kindgier is 
their name for a species of bean ; Wikon- 
towr, of what resembled the English pea ' 
gourds, pumpkins and melons went under 
the name of Macoquer. Tobacco called 
Uppowoc, and its uses are by no means 
overlooked. The Indians employed it in 
acts of sacrifice and*t!ianksgiving. It was 
their incense. Smoking, seems to have 
been the only fashionable way of enjoy- 



ing it. Of its rare virtues the author says, 
" The smoke, thus puffed, draws out and 
clears away the phlegm and gross humors 
from the head and stomach and opens the 
pores of the body. Not only they who use 
it keep their systems free from obstruc- 
tions, but are speedily relieved of those 
they have, if they be not of too long 
standing already; hence their healthy 
frames, nor do 1 remember to have notic- 
ed among them very many severe diseases 
which affi'ct us here in England. 

The sketch of the character and manners 
of the native tribes is, compared with the 
rest of the work, quite full : though to 
our wishes meagre enough. We can give 
only a brief abstract of it. 

Their dress was commonly a deer-skin 
covering the middle parts of the body. — 
Their only weapons of offence were bows 
of hazel, and arrows of reed and clubs 
about two cubits long; while those for 
defence were only a shield made of bark 
and a sort of armour made of slender 
sticks plaited with a kind of cord. Their 
villages seldom contained so many as thir- 
ty houses, and were commonly guarded 
by a palisade. Their wigwams seem to 
have been made in a style quite workman- 
like and comfortable. They resembled a 
long covered arch the length usually twice 
the breadth, six to eight fathoms long, and 
were covered with rush-woven mats. Th%, 
chiefs ruled over a small number of vil- 
lages, none, whom our adventurers found 
over more than eighteen, which number 
furnished seven to eight hundred fight- 
ing men. Their whole method of warfare 
was like that of other savages and is well 
known to our readers. Their religious 
notions were more peculiar. They be- 
lieved in many deities, whom they styled 
Montoac, of diverse grades and functions, 
and in one, supreme, and eternal ; that 
when he would create the world he first 
made subordinate divinities, and after the 
sun, moon and stars. They held water 
to have been the original element, from 
which all things seen and unseen were 

formed. In their notions of their own 
original they were not far from the scrip- 
tural statement of "the Sons 'of God," 
and '< the daughters of men," affirming 
that woman was first made. They con- 
ceived of the Gods as in form men and of 
course represented them in idol shapes, 
which they worshipped in prayers and 
songs and many offerings. They had full 
faith in tbe immortality of the soul, and 
believed that alter death, it was at once 
transferred, according as its works had 
been, to a state of perpetual felicity among 
the Gods or to a deep trench burning with 
everlasting fire, near the western verge of 
the world. The latter place they called 
Popogusso. The truth of this opinion 
they sustained by the experience of two 
who had returned from death to life and 
made such reports to them. The thought 
of these future states exercised much in- 
fluence over their conduct, though tempo- 
ral penalties also were not wanting, in 
case of wrong doing. They looked upon 
the strangers almost as .Gods and heard 
from them the doctrines of the Bible with 
fear if not with faith. If they suffered 
from disease they ascribed it to their own 
intent of harm to their visitors, whom 
they supposed to be aware of every device 
against them, and prepared to revenge it. 
So much is nearly the substance of what 
Hariot told the men of his day of the na- 
tives of this land. 

The residue of the volume is filled with 
drawings,and with aceompanying descrip- 
tions, of the persons and occupations of 
the natives ; their mode of fishing, of mak- 
ing canoes, their idols, villages, dances 
and the burial of their chiefs. These en- 
gravings are in a style of art superior to 
that in which modern books of travels are 
illustrated. We have here the earlist 
map ever engraved of the coast of North 
Carolina, and we can hardly doubt, the 
very features of some of those dwellers 
here, whose race has now disappeared for- 
ever ! 



Commencement. — After the announce- 
ment macie in our May number we deem 
it necessary to say only a few words in 
reference to this occasion. We feel confi- 
dent that all who read our last issue, with 
no small number of "the rest of man- 
kind " are already prepared to add inter- 
est to the first day of June by attending 
our commencement. Come early in the 
week for commencement day is by no 
means theonhy on which you can en- 
joy our ''feast of reason." 

On Monday night the Valedictory Ser- 
mon will be delivered by the Rev. Thos. 
G. Lowe, of Halifax. Fathers, mothers, 
brothers, sisters, lovers, friends, come early 
enough to hear the words of advice and en- 
couragement to your sons, brothers, &c. 

Tuesday night Will be taken up by De- 
claimed from the Freshman Class. 

On Wednesday forenoon the address, 
before the two Literary Societies will be 
delivered by Gov. A. V. Brown, of Tenn. 
We understand that no address before the 
Alumni Association need be expected. 

On Wednesday evening there will be a 
a meeting of the Historical Society — per- 
haps an address. 

Wednesday night the Declaimers from 
the "Soph. Class" appear. 

To fair women and gallant men, who 
are fond of the dance, an opportunity will 
be offered each night to " chase the glow- 
ing hours with flying feet." As before 
announced a fine band of music will be 
in attendance to direct the " chase." As 
we know of nothing that will in any pro- 
bility occur to mar the interest and pleas- 
ure of the occasion the attendance no 
doubt will be large. 

Thursday, the grand gala day of all, 
will be taken up almost entirely by exer- 
ci?es of the Seniors, and of course each 
speaker will attempt to win whatever of 
applause he can. If you are fond of a 
variety of tongues you will on that day 
be abundantly accommodated. At one 
time you will be talked to very familiarly 
in flowing Latin, at another the stately 

Greek will at least amuse you. It will be 
modern Greek of course. The Court lan- 
guage of Europe will pei'haps be not un- 
acceptable to your taste. If so yon will be 
entertained by its hasty flow. Amidst 
this " confusion of tongues " the English 
will also at times be heard, for some of 
us have the privilege of essaying in our 
mother tongue. We Editors, who speak, 
hope all visitors will have some under- 
standing of that difficult tongue, for in 
that language alone will we have the priv- 
ilege of addressing them. After the ora- 
tions by the Graduating Class are over, 
except the Valedictory, Gov. Swain will 
read the annual report, deliver diplomas, 
and then change us into men by means of 
a few " cabalistic words" spoken in an un- 
faioicn tongue that it may not be evident 
to every body exactly how the metamor- 
phosis takes place. The Valedictory will 
then close the scene in the Chapel and 
the class will separate for a year. 

Our Magazine. — Its Stjbsct.ibeks. — 
Those who have taken any degree of in- 
terest in our labors for the past year know 
well with what success we have met and 
with what degree of acceptability the 
Magazine has been received, whilst under 
the control of those who are now sending 
forth their last issue. We may be allow- 
ed to say that our success and the accep- 
tability of the Magazine for our term of 
guardianship has been entirely beyond our 
original expectations. To all who have 
in any degree, contributed to these results 
we are truly grateful and we doubt not 
that our successors would be as much 
pleased with future aid as we have been 
with past. Whilst we are anxious for 
them to out strip us, if it is p>ossible, in 
giving an elevated tone and high liter- 
ary character to the Magazine, we are still 
more interested that they may succeed, 
better than we have done, in the way of 
impressing on subscribers the simple fact 
that no periodical can lite long lohere a 
large portion of its subscribers forget, in 



practice, that it has to be paid for. "Ma- 
terial aid " then is what we bespeak. — 
Hear our plea and judge if it be not a 
good one. 

There are between five and six hundred 
persons who have manifested sufficient in- 
terest in. the Magazine to become its sub- 
scribers. If from all these, the money 
were punctually to follow their names we 
should now have on hand several hundred 
dollars to be appropriated to the increase 
of Society Libraries. But this is by no 
means the case, for, at least half those 
whose names are on our list, have been, 
on this point, obliviously foigetful. Punc- 
tual payment on the part of each of our 
subscribers would have given the Maga- 
zine over one thousand dollars for the 
past year. All expenses attached to it for 
the same time would amount to about 
eight hundred. If it were possible to re. 
duce the expenses so as to correspond to 
the tardy payments of subcribers we 
should not feel so much disposed to grum- 
ble. But whilst over half our subscribers 
in the past year have not given one cent's 
evidence of their remembrance, as con- 
ductors of the destiny of the Magazine for 
that time we feel not only mortified at this 
negligence but also are inclined very 
strongly, to be provoked at that portion 
of its friends whose money does not tes- 
tify to the truth of their professions. — 
These remarks are intended only for such 
friends, and we hope they will not be 
such an}'' longer. We feel sure that, "A 
word to the wise " will prove sufficient. If 
so, our successors will be able to meet all 
expenses in their turn, and also to de- 
crease the debt hanging over the Magazine 
by reason of the inexcusable neglect in 
paying off the subscriptions. We hope 
that without delay each one in arrears to 
the Magazine, will immediately sit down 
and fold up in a letter the amount due, 
and forward the same by the next mail to 
the Editors at Chapel Hill. Certainly 
every considerate man will correspond fa- 

vorably. " Render unto Csesar the things 
that are Caesar's.'' 

New Buildings.— We have several 
times in the course of our editorial career 
urged the necessity of additional college 
buildings at the University. Thinking 
that the Trustees were the proper persons 
to whom to look for action (in the matter, 
and that their pecuniary affairs were quite 
different from what they now appear to 
be we have uniformly appealed to them. 
We find that we need do so no more, as 
will be seen from the following correspon- 
dence, which we insert as a matter of 
history and also for the purpose of a sug- 
gestion to our fellow students as to their 
duty. But read : 

University of N. C, [ 
Sept. 1st, 1854. j 

To tlie Trustees of the University : 

Gentlemen : — We have been appointed as 
Gommittees from the two Literary Societies, to 
address you in reference to the necessity that 
now exists in the University for larger Halls 
for the accommodation of said Societies. To 
show that we use not the wrong word when we 
say necessity let us only state a few facts. 

There are now in actual attendance at the 
University not less than two hundred and six- 
ty students. Give to each Hall an equal num- 
ber. One hundred and thirty then are assign- 
ed to each Hall. In each there are four rows of 
inmovable seats running round the room, in 
about a semi-circle, facing the stand for the 
officers. Two narrow isles cut these rows into 
three separate blocks. In the middle block 
each bench will accommodate comfortably not 
more than eight students. To the whole block 
then we assign thirty-two students. The other 
two blocks are similar to each other, accommo- 
dating twenty-four each. Each room or hall 
then, it will be readily seen, is only fitted to 
seat comfortably eighty young men. , This cal- 
culation leaves fifty of the young men unseated 
in eaeh Society and one hundred students in fhe^ 
University of North Carolina excluded from the 
weekly meetings of the two Literary Societies 
— merely for the want of sufficient room I What 
College can boast of the like ! Besides, the con- 
struction of the present halls is such and their 
area so limited that the introduction of chairs 
to any amount is rendered impossible : and 



still for all the present session the number of 
students has been steadily increasing. 

Some remedy for this state of things is 
sought for and we have been directed, as offi- 
cial committees from the two Societies, to ad- 
dress you a solicitation for new and more capa- 
cious buildings so constructed as to furnish 
more ample rooms for the meetings of said So- 
cieties. In this connection we would beg leave 
to state that our Libraries are fast filling up 
and at an early date more shelves will be need- 
ed for the preservation of our books. 

Before closing allow us to state one other 
feature connected with our situation here which 
we humbly think you as Trustees of the Uni- 
versity should at least know. College build- 
ings will not when crowded hold over half the 
students connected with the College, whilst 
the other portion of them are compelled to pay 
Tiigh room-rent in the village. This constitutes 
an item of expense to a large number, which 
economy would say they ought to be free from 
and we know not to whom to appeal in their be- 
half except to you, without whose aid in the 
way of New Buildings this distinction in the 
expenses of those attending the University can- 
not be avoided — even by those whose pecuniary 
affairs cry out against it. 

We have not at present any plan of our own 
which we feel disposed to offer concerning the 
kind of buildings we would like. Our design 
now is to get assurance that we shall be accom- 
modated as soon as possible. Hoping then that 
we may be favorably heard and in considera- 
tion of existing circumstances our petition 
granted we are, in behalf of the bodies we re- 
present, your petitioners, ever, 
With high esteem, 

L. J. MEBRITT, ) Commitee 
N. A. BOYDEN, \ of 
JOHN B. BUFFIN, j Di. Society. 
JAS..C. MOOEE, ) Committee 
J AS. W. JACOBS, }■ of 
E. J. VANN, ) Phi. Soc'ty. 

The above letter was committed to the 
charge of the Secretary of the Board of 
Trustees from whom the following reply 
was received : 

Baleigh, Jan. 11, 1854. 
Gentlemen: — Please find on the opposite 
page an extract from the minutes of the Board 
of Trustees, showing the action had on the 
memorial committed to my charge, at the late 
annual meeting. 

I am, gentleman, very respectfully. 
Tour obedient servant, 
L. J. Merritt, IS. A. Boyden, John R. Buffin, 
Jas. C. Moore, Jas. W. Jacobs, E. J. Vann, 
Committees of Di. and Phi. Societies. 

The following is the " extract from the 
minutes of the board " referred to by the 


From a Joint Committee on behalf of the 
two Literary Societies, was presented, praying 
the erection of additional College Buildings for 
the accommodation of the increased number of 
students, and also for new Society Halls and 
Library Booms. 

The same was read and considered, and the 
Secretary directed to say in reply, that the 
Board, appreciating fully the commendable so- 
licitude of the Memorialists and concurring hear- 
tily in the necessity existing for the enlarged 
accommodations referred to, are yet unable to 
fulfil their wishes from the want of adequate 
funds. The increased demand on the Finances 
of the Board by the recent establishment of 
additional Professorships and Tutorships, and 
the diminution of their income by the late Acts 
of the General Assembly withdrawing from 
the Institution the escheated property of the 
State, having so circumscribed the means of the 
Board hs to place beyond their reach, at pres- 
ent, an object so desirable to all the friends of 
the University. 

From this it will be seen that it is quite 
out of the power of the Trustees to fur- 
nish the Institution with the additional 
desired buildings. Who then can ? We 
answer the Legislature. Who ought ? — 
We answer the Legislature. Who will ? 
We hope the next Legislature. We do 
not now propose to enter into any argu- 
ment by way ot attempting to show that 
it is always its duty to look carefully to 
the interest of the State Institution estab- 
lished by provision of the Constitution, 
which says, " all useful learning shall be 
duly encouraged and promoted in one or 
more Universities." Such encouragement 
and promotion is vested in the Legislature, 
and we are not a little surprised that they 
should be so tardy in their efforts to make 
the accommodations at the State Institu- 
tion correspond with the increased de- 
mand for them. Perhaps their attention 
has never been called to the point, and 
they do not understand the pecuniary af- 
fairs of the University well enough to 
cause them to take any action in its be- 



half. We therefore, hold it to be a privi- 
lege, of our fellow students, whom we 
leave behind, to throw themselves on the 
liberality of the next Legislature, and 
by a strong memorial signed by all the 
sitting members of both Societies, plead 
their own cause, where alone of them- 
selves they need hope to avail any thing. 
We conceive that in thus acting they would 
do nothing presumptive. A distinguished 
gentleman of the State, to whom it was 
intimated that it was probable that such 
would be the course of the students after 
finding that their object cannot be gained 
through the Trustees ; in a private letter 
(we hope he will excuse the liberty we 
take) holds the following language. " I 
am truly rejoiced to find that you do not 
intend to permit the subject of your me- 
morial to sleep, but propose taking steps to 
have your voice heard, where alone it can 
be available, in our Legislative Halls. As a 
general rule I am opposed to boys turning 
politicians, but in this case there would 
be a fitness and even grace in children 
pleading for their "Alma Mater." 

A large number of the most influential 
members of the Legislature are Alumni of 
the University, and a direct appeal to them 
from the whole body of College cannot 
fail to be felt. 

In whatever the Societies may do in 
this behalf they shall have my hearty 
good will and co-operation." 

If we have succeeded in indicating what 
we honestly think should be done we 
need add nothing further. To call at- 
tention to this subject is all that we de- 
sire for the present. 

The Leader. — We are indebted to Jo- 
seph Johnson, M. D., of Charleston, for 
the article with which we open this num- 
ber. It will be remembered that he is the 
author of the Sketch of the Life of 
Capt. Blakely, which appeared in the 
February number of the Magazine, and 
which at the time was read with great in- 

terest and favorably noticed by the press. 
For this second demonstration of his 
interest in our welfare, we sincerely thank 
him, and although he cannot again confer 
upon us a similar favor, yet we trust he 
will remember our successors, and we will 
always take great delight in perusing his 
interesting and instructive sketches of 

The article entitled ''A Conversation," 
has been received and accepted, but, we 
are sorry to say is crowded out of the 
present issue. The new corps has prom- 
ised us that it will certainly appear in the 
August number. The authoress has our 
thanks for this and past favors, and we 
give her the assurance that her articles 
will always be gladly received by our suc- 
cessors. And here let us thank all the 
ladies, though few, who have showed their 
interest in our protege by visible tokens, 
and hope that ice and the Magazine may 
never be forgotten by them. 

Our Classmates. — To those of you, who 
are subscribers to the Magazine and who 
have not changed the direction of your co- 
pies of it, we would say that you will oblige 
both our successors and ourselves, if you 
will immediately give information of the 
place to which you would have them di- 

Our Contributors. — You have our 
warmest thanks for the kind assistance 
which you have from time to time given 
us, and the confidence with which you 
thereby inspired us. 

'Tis well known to us, that some few 
individuals, not any of our fellow-students, 
turned a cold shoulder on us and our 
charge, simply because we were not all 
favorites of theirs. To any, whom this 
may fit, or who may take it to themselves, 
we have but to say, that we expected 
such treatment here and that we will be 
greatly disappointed if we do not meet 



-with similar treatment out in the uarrow- 
souled and hollow-hearted world. We 
succeeded here to our entire satisfaction 
without their kind assistance and gener- 
ous encouragement, and we hope to be 
able to get along respectably out in the 
world, even if some people should not 
smile on us. 

Our fcdlow-students acted pretty mag- 
nanimously during the past year in the 
way of contributions ; but they did not 
do as much as we know they might have 
done — as much as we think they ought 
to have done. Their interest, indeed, is 
more at stake than that of the Magazine ; 
for it receives many contributions from a 
distance, which with a little labor on the 
part of the Editor.? will always enable 
them to fill the Magazine. v Several have 
improved themselves greatly by writing 
for it, and, we trust sincerely, that they 
and others will contribute largely during 
the term of service of the next corps of 

Many gifted writers, from the Hill, have 
manifested a pride and interest in the suc- 
cess of this student-undertaking, which 
we felt to be highly encouraging and for 
which we shall ever feel grateful to them. 
We hope they and many others will not 
forget to support and encourage the Mag- 
azine after it has passed into other hands. 

Ourselves.— ^Twelve months ago, we 
met for the first time in an official capaci- 
ty. At that time we met as kind-hearted 
friends, nor has the link, that then bound 
us together, ever been even strained or 
broken. Throughout, our little coterie 
has been characterized by sociability, 
pleasantry and dignity. The duties of 
our office have not ^infrequently so taxed 
our time and energies as to be somewhat 
laborious ; yet we have always come away 
from the discharge of them rather im- 
proved and gratified than otherwise. In 
laboring thus zealously, unitedly and un- 

tiringly for the very best interests of the 
Magazine, our tastes have been refined 
and elevated, and our attainments not a 
little increased, while at the same time 
the silken cords of friendship have been 
drawn closer and closer. And thus the 
gradual culture of kind intercourse has 
brought it to perfection. 

When we part — part perhaps for aye — 
we shall part as brothers. And as long 
as life shall last, we shall look back to 
this portion of our College-life with pride 
and satisfaction. As Horace has truly 
and finely sung — 

Felices ter et amplius 

Quos irrupta tenet copula ; nee matis 

Divulsus querriruoniis, 

Suprema citius solvet amor die. 

Our Successors. — Having discharged 
the last duty incumbent upon us as Edi- 
tors of the North Carolina University 
Magazine, we now take pleasure in intro- 
ducing to our subscribers and the public our 
worthy successors, Messrs. Nathaniel A. 
Boyden, James Campbell, William H. 
Hall, Evander J. McIver, Henry W. 
McMillan, and Charlton W. Yellow- 
ley. Knowing their talents, taste and in- 
dustry, we cheerfully and confidently re- 
sign into their hands the care and conduct 
of this periodical for the success of which 
we confess we feel no small concern. We 
have but a word to say to them — for uer- 
dum sat sapientibus. By all means, avoid 
cant phrases and tame and lifeless produc- 
tions, and keep a vigilant watch, lest the 
"gilded blasphemies of infidels and the 
noontide trances of pernicious theorists " 
make their way into the columns of the 
Magazine. Such, instead of raising still 
higher, would destroy its present elevated 
character and in the end sap its very foun- 



We all, though some of us do not live 
in this honored old State, in bidding a 
fond and lasting adieu to the Magazine 
feel enough interest in the State in which 
our Alma Mater is situated to wish most 
earnestly, that it may long, long survive 
and flourish, not only for the benefit of 
the students at the University but also 

for the pride and ornament of the State. 



Vol. III. 

AUGUST, 1854. 

Ho. 6. 


Readers, all : — Behold the Six ! — 
Observe them well, and mark their 
course ; and see if there te any good in 
them. It is ours to appear in the fourth 
act of our little drama, and we present 
ourselves to you with that modest re- 
luctance which should characterize all 
tyros. Add to this natural feeling the 
consciousness of the surpassing abilities 
of ouv predecessors ; of the elevated 
standard of literature in our day ; of the 
enlightenment, refinement and fastidi- 
ousness of the age, and you will have 
our strong motives to be modest 
young men. And when we consider 
how favorably a benignant, public 
has been viewing our little charge, 
and the increasing interest manifest- 
ed therein, we accept its guardian- 
ship the more cheerfully and hope the 
more fondly for its future success. Its 
character and merits are already well 
known to its readers, and if they have 
not been equal to its success so much 
the more gratitude we owe to them, 
and our obligations to elevate it is pro- 
portionally stronger. This cannot be 
done otherwise than by bestowing on 
us a more enlarged patronage in the 
Vol. EL— 37. 

way of dollars, (we don't care for the 
cents,) as well as in the literary depart- 
ment. The second follows from the 
first, an intuitive inference in this " age 
of facts, and nothing else." To show that 
this demand is reasonable, permit us to 
state a few simple truths, which your 
own judgments will approve; — to- thai 
alone we wish to appeal. 

North Carolina is fully .awakened to 
her own interest in internal improve- 
ments, and in education. Railroads, 
plank-roads, river improvements, min- 
ing, agriculture and manufactures ; are 
receiving the attention due to their im- 
portance. There is a first-rate Univer- 
sity, several Colleges, male and female, 
many academies, public and private 
schools, a great number of political 
presses — all calculated to advance, im- 
prove, enlighten the people. But amid 
all this is there not one desideratum, 
one great source of improvement, of 
honor — of glory. Must the gifted sons 
of Carolina send their thoughts to grace 
the pages of foreign periodicals. Shall 
it be said that their own State would 
not suffer them to think, to write, to 
instruct ? We are earnest in urging 



this consideration, for it is a very im- 
portant one. It is that which made 
Edinburgh the Athens of Scotland, that 
which made London the Athens of the 
world, that which made New York, 
Boston and Philadelphia the leading 
stars in American literature. The liter- 
ary character of a place is judged by its 
literary publications, sometimes errone- 
ously, but almost necessarily. We con- 
tribute to elevate the literary standard 
elsewhere. Is not this robbing our- 
selves ? Do not our politicians owe 
their success and fame to this very cir- 
cumstance ? and have we not in our 
midst literateurs as well as politicians, 
and yet we know it not. Literary pub- 
lications give a tone and character to a 
place the importance of which we seem 
not yet to know. 

We know of only one literary paper 
in the State, and we would ask its intel- 
ligent conductor if he has met with the 
encouragement due to his laudable un- 
dertaking. Could a high literature 
arise amongst us like Venus from the 
waves, we would turn our enraptured 
faces towards it, and raise temples to its 
honor; we would worship there and 
nowhere else. We would no longer be 
calling on our friends over the waters, 
" Send us your Blackwoods, Edinburgh 
Reviews, Westministers, &c. ; we would 
no longer be calling on our brethren of the 
norih for Harper's, Putnam's, and what 
not? But the age of wonders is over, 
" we want facts, real, stern facts ;" indeed, 
we have never heard of literary mira- 
cles, if we except Joe Smith's bible, and 
its claim to be one is indeed a little mi- 
raculous. And now, kind reader, if we 
have convinced you that we ought to 
have not only one, but several periodi- 

expect the iuterrogatory, " who is to 
conduct them, the students of the Se- 
nior Class at the University of North 
Carolina ? Well, we think we might 
have the charge of one, under the aus- 
pices of our able Faculty. We are 
young but they are experienced ; we 
(begging your pardon) are at the foun- 
tain head of knowledge, and we enjoy 
many other advantages which modesty 
forbids us to set forth. Let others aid 
us, let others publish, let the State pat- 
ronize us, and you kind reader, send us 
in a contribution from Mammon or 
from Minerva, and you will find us 
your much obliged friends. Premising 
these general remarks, until a more 
favorable opportunity shall be afforded 
us of dwelling more largely on this im- 
portant topic, we set out on our edito- 
rial career, not indeed promising satis- 
faction to any one, but an earnest en- 
deavor to satisfy all. Like the Specta- 
tor, we do not expect to reform the liv- 
ing age, but like him when not un- 
der the " nom de plume" we expect to 
attract very little notice. But we intend 
to act the Spec, in parvum in our own 
little village ; to notice the fashions and 
manners which th# arbiter time, im- 
poses on U6 all, wherever we be, and let 
folly beware as she flies through our 
peaceful groves, for we intend to shoot 
at her, and hit her too, if we can. His- 
tory, biography, and discursive writing 
shall find a welcome place in our pages, 
if judged worthy. In fine, we expect 
if not to reach, at least to aim at excel- 
lence, to use our utmost endeavors in 
cultivating a literary taste among our 
citizens. We expect to seek no level, 
to hold the fodder to no particular one. 
Our aim, like the true tendency of lit- 
erature, is towards perfection. Let 
no one scorn us if we fail, greater than 
we have failed before ut, indeed, so 
common is this that it is almost become 

cals devoted to the cause of literature, we a mark of merit. 





The XLT section of the Constitution 
of the State provides "that a school or 
schools shall be established by the Le- 
gislature for the convenient instruction 
of youth ; with such salaries to the mas- 
ters, paid by the public, as may enable 
them to instruct at low prices, and all 
useful learning shall be duly encouraged 
ftnd promoted in one or more Universi- 

The resources of the State were so 
nearly exhausted by the unparalleled 
exertion and sacrifices made by our 
fathers during the struggle for indepen- 
dence, that immediate compliance with 
these imperative injunctions of the 
Constitution was impossible. The adop- 
tion of the Federal Constitution by the 
requisite number of States, the organi- 
zation of the government in compliance 
with its provisions, and the admission 
of this State into the American union, 
mark the commencement of the most 
auspicious era in our history. The Con- 
stitution of the 'United States was rati- 
fied by the people of North Carolina in 
Convention at Fayetteville, on the 21st 
November, 1*789, and a few days there- 
after, (on the 11th of Deeember,) the 
General Assembly passed the act to es- 
tablish the University of North Caroli- 
na. Even at this period the State was 
unable to provide a competent endow- 
ment for this single institution, and dur- 

ing more than a quarter of a century it 
was sustained mainly by private con- 
tributions. To General Davie we are 
indebted for the first successful attempt 
to establish a University, and to his 
companions in arms, Col. Smith, Gen. 
Person and Major Girard, for a very 
large proportion of the means, foi its 
establishment and subsequent support. 
Person, Girard and Smith Halls, are 
the appropriate monuments and memo- 
rials of these early and liberal instances 
of beneficence. 

To the late Judge Murphey, a philoso- 
phic statesman, whose views were great- 
ly in advance of the generation to which 
he belonged, we are under obligations 
for the earliest effort to establish com- 
mon schools, in connection with the 
general system of education contem- 
plated by the framers of the Constitu- 
tion. He died, if our memory does not 
deceive us, in the autumn of 1832, leav- 
ing his " name and memory to his coun- 
trymen, after some time has passed 
over." No one has as yet undertaken 
to write his biography, or prepare his 
manuscripts for publication. The re- 
port made by him as chairman of the 
committee of Education, in the Senate 
of 1817, attracted much attention at 
the time, but soon passed from the pub- 
lic memory. It has long been out of 
print, and until within a few weeks past 
we had regarded it as irrecorerably lost. 



Numerous inquiries were made for it 
nearly twenty years ago, and even then, 
not a single copy of it could be obtained. 
It has been preserved in the pages of the 
very useful and extensive repository of 
facts, and documents, published during 
a series of years by the late Hezekiah 
Niles, at Baltimore, and after his death 
at "Washington City, by a successor who 
was not his equal. 

Our readers will thank us for repro- 
ducing it. It may be found in Niles' 
Register for 1819, and is not merely 
replete with valuable information in re- 
lation to the past, but eminently sug- 
gestive for the future. 



Tlie Committee to whom were referred so much 
of the Message of his Excellency, the Governor, 
as relates to puhlic instruction, report in 

That we have much reason to thank 
Providence for the arrival of a period, 
when our country, enjoying peace with 
foreign nations and free from domestic 
inquietude, turns her attention to im 
proving her physical resources and the 
moral and intellectual condition of her 
citizens. The war of party spirit, which 
for twenty years has disturbed her tran- 
quility and perverted her ambition, has 
terminated; and political strife has 
yielded its place to an honorable zeal 
for the public welfare. Enlightened 
statesmen will avail themselves of this 
auspicious period to place the fortunes 
of the state upon a basis not to be 
shaken ; to found and cherish institu- 
tions which shall guaranty to the peo- 
ple the permanence of their govern- 
ment, and enable them to appreciate its 

excellence. The legislature of North 
Carolina, giving to their ambition an 
honorable direction, have resolved to 
improve this period for the best inter- 
ests of the State; to ad opt and carry 
into effect liberal plans of internal im- 
provements ; to give encouragement to 
literature, and to diffuse the lights of 
knowledge among all classes of the 
community. Let us foster the spirit 
which has gone abroad ; il will lead to 
the happiest results. If we ourselves 
should not live to witness them, we 
shall at least have the satisfaction of 
having contributed to produce them, 
and of seeing our children receive from 
our hands a country growing rich in 
physical resources, and advancing in 
moral and intellectual excellence. This 
is the true way of giving strength and 
permanence to the gorernment: of giv- 
ing to it root in the hearts of the peo- 
ple, and nurturing it with their affec- 
tions. What people will not love a 
government whose constant solicitude 
is for their happiness, and whose ambi- 
tion is to elevate their character in the 
scale of intelligent beings. Ha vino- 
commenced the great work of Human- 
ity, let us persevere in it with a patience 
that shall not tire, and with a zeal that 
shall not abate ; praying to the Father 
of all good, that he will enlighten and 
direct our course, and finally crown our 
labors with success. 

Your committee have entered upon 
the duties assigned to them with a full 
conviction of their importance, and of 
the difficulties which attend their dis- 
charge. But believing that let the sub- 
ject be taken up when it may, those 
difficulties will exist, and availing them- 
selves of the light thrown upon the 



subject by the wisdom of others, they 
have prepared a system of public in- 
struction for ISTorth Carolina, which 
with much deference they beg leave to 
submit to the consideration of the gen- 
eral assembly. In digesting this sys- 
tem, they have adhered to the general 
principles of the report on this subject, 
submitted by a committee to the last 
: lature ; and have embraced a pro- 
a for the poor as well as the rich, 
a gradation of schools from the 
lowest to the highest. 

To give effect to any general plan of 
public education, it is essentially neces- 
sary that ample funds be provided, and 
that these funds, and also the execution 
of the general plan, be committed to 
the care and direction of a board com- 
posed of intelligent and efficient men. 
Your committee reserve for a more spe- 
cial report their views with respect to 
the creation of a fund for public in- 
struction. This subject requires a min- 
uteness of detail, which would only 
embarrass the general views which it is 
their object now to present to the con- 
sideration of the general assembly. 

Your committee have considered the 
subject referred to them under the fol- 
lowing divisions : 

1st. The creation of a fund for pub- 
lic instruction. 

2d. The constitution of a board to 

lage the fund, and to carry into 

execution the plan of public instruction. 

3d. The organization of schools. 

4th. The course of studies to be pre- 
scribed for each. 

5th. The modes of instruction. 

6th. The discipline and government 
of the schools. 

7th. The education of poor children 
at the public expense. 

8th. An asylum for the deaf and 

Having reserved for a more special 
report the creation of a fund for public 
instruction, your committee will first 
submit their views with respect to the 
constitution of a board for the manage- 
ment of this fund, and the execution 
and superintendence of the general 
plan of education which they recom- 


As the whole community will be in- 
terested in the,plan of education, the 
members of the board should be select- 
ed from different parts of the State. — 
They have charge of all our literary in- 
stitutions ; and to give more weight 
and respectability to their deliberations 
and resolves, the governor of the State 
should be placed at their head. It will 
be their province to manage,and apply 
the funds committed to their care, to 
carry into execution from time to time 
as it shall be found practicable, the dif- 
ferent parts of the plan of public educa- 
tion ; to superintend the same when in 
full operation; to prescribe general 
rules and regulations for the discipline 
and government of the schools ; to 
make annual reports to the legislature 
of their proceedings and of the state of 
the schools under their chaige. Your 
committee do therefore recommend : * 

1st. That there shall be elected by 
joint ballot of the two houses of the 
general assembly, six directors, who 
shall be styled " The board of public in- 
struction ;" that three of the directors 
shall reside at or to the eastward of the 
city of Raleigh, and three shall reside 
at or to the westward thereof. 

2d. That the governor for the time 




being, shall be " ex officio " president 
of the board ; but the board may ap- 
point a vice president who shall preside 
in the absence of the governor. 

3d. The board shall appoint a secre- 
tary and such other officers as may be 
necessary for conducting their business, 
who shall receive a reasonable compen- 
sation for their services. 

4th. Until otherwise ordered, the 
members of the board shall receive the 
saute compensation for the traveling to 
and from the place of their meeting ; 
and the same " per diem" during their 
attendance on the board, as is now al- 
lowed by law to members of the gene- 
ral assembly. They shall hold an an- 
nual meeting in the city of Raleigh at 
or near the time of the meeting of the 
general assembly. The president of the 
board may at his own pleasure, or 
shall at the request of any two direc- 
tors thereof, convene extra meetings of 
the board for the transaction of any 
extraordinary business. A majority of 
the whole number of directors shall be 
necessary to constitute a board for the 
transaction of business, but the presi- 
dent or any single director may adjourn 
from day to day until a board be formed. 

5th. The board may at any time en- 
act, alter or amend such rules as to 
them may seem proper for the purpose 
of regulating the order of their pro- 
ceedings ; they may adjourn for any 
period or meet at any place, where they 
may think the public interest shall re- 
quire. They shall have power, subject 
to the limitations to provided by law, 
to establish and locate the several acad- 
emies directed by law to be established . 


to determine the number and titles of 
the professorships therein ; to examine, 

appoint and regulafe the compensation 
of the several professors and teachers * 
to appoint in the first instance, the * 
trustees of the several academies ; to 
prescribe the course of instruction and 
discipline of the several academies and 
primary schools, according to such gen- 
eral rules as shall be established by 
law ; to provide some just and particu- 
lar mode of advancing from the prima- 
ry schools to the academies, and from 
academies to the university, as many of 
the meritorious children educated at the - 
public expense, as the proceeds of the 
fund for public instruction may suffice 
to educate and maintain after the whole 
system of public instruction hereby re- 
commended, shall have been put in op- 
eration ; to manage the fund for public 
instruction, and apply its proceeds in 
carrying into execution and supporting 
the plan of education committed to their 
care, and in giving effect to this plan, 
the board shall regard the primary 
schools at its foundation, and care shall 
be taken that the proceeds of the fund 
for public instruction, shall not be ap- 
plied to the establishment of any acad- 
emy, so long as it is probable that such 
an application rray leave any primary 
schools unprovided for. And the board 
shall have power to enact, alter or 
amend such bye-laws, rules and regula- 
tions relative to the various objects com- 
mitted to their trust, as to them may 
seem expedient. Provided the same be 
not inconsistent with the laws of the 
State ; and they shall recommend to 
the general assembly from time to time, 
such general laws in relation to public 
instruction, as may in their opinion, be 
calculated to promote the intellectual 
and moral improvement of the State. 



6. The directors of the board of pub- 
lic instruction for the time being shall) 
ex-officio, be trustees of the university 
of this State. 

7th. The treasurer of the State shall 
have charge of the fund for public in- 
struction, and the proceeds thereof shall 
be paid upon warrants drawn by the 
president of the board ; and all ex- 
penses incurred in carrying into effect 
the system of public instruction and 
supporting the same, shall be charged 
upon this fund and paid out of the pro- 
ceeds thereof. 

8th. The board of public instruction 
shall annually submit to the general as- 
sembly at or near the commencement 
of their session, a view of the state of 
public education within the State, em- 
bracing a history of the progress or de- 
clension of the University in the ye x 
next preceding, and illustrating its ac- 
tual condition and future prospects ; 
and also setting forth the condition of 
the fund committed to their trust for 
public instruction. 

9th. The board of public instruction 
shall be a body politic in law ; shall 
have a common seal and perpetual suc- 
cession ; shall by the naine and style of 
"the board of public instruction," be 
capable of suing and being sued, plead- 
ing and being impleaded ; and shall 
have and enjoy all the rights and privi- 
leges of a corporation. 


In arranging the system of schools, 
your committee have endeavored to 
make the progress of education natural 
and regular, beginning with primary 
schools, in which the first rudiments of 
learning are taught, and proceeding to 

Academies, in which youth are taught 
instructed in languages, ancient and 
modern history, mathematics and other 
branches of science, preparatory to en- 
tering into the University, in which in- 
struction is to be given in all the high- 
er branches of the sciences, and the 
principles of the useful arts. 

In making this arrangement the 
greatest difficulties have occurred in or- 
ganizing the primary schools. These 
difficulties arise from the condition of 
the country and the State of its popu- 
lation ; it being found impossible to di- 
vide the State into small sections of ter- 
ritory, each containing an adequate 
population for the support of a school. 
Any attempt to divide the territory of 
the State into such small sections, with 
a view of locating a school in each, 
would prove unavailing; and however 
desirable it may be, that a school 
should be established convenient to 
every family, the time has not arrived 
when it can be done. But so far as it 
is practicable to extend the convenience 
it should be done. These primary 
schools are of the first importance in 
any general plan of public education ; 
every citizen has an interest in them, 
as the learning indispensible to all, of 
reading, writing and arithmetic, is here 
to be taught. By judicious manage- 
ment and a proper selection of books 
for children while they are learning to 
read, much instruction in their moral 
and religious duties may be given to , 
th-em in these schools. Your commit- 
tee have diligently examined the dif- 
ferent plans of public instruction which 
have been submitted to the general as- 
sembly of our sister State, Virginia,and 
also those which have been carried into 




effect in some of the New England 
States : they have also examined the 
plan which was drawn up and adopted 
by the national convention of France, 
and which now forms the basis of pub- 
lic instruction in all the communes of 
empire;, and deriving much aid from 
this examination upon every part of the 
subject referred to them, they have sug- 
gested a system which they hope may 
be found to suit the condition of North 
Carolina. In designating the schools 
of different grades, they have adopted 
the names in common use. Your com- 
in it tea do therefore recommend that as 


1. Each county in this State be di- 
vided into two or more townships, and 
that one or more primary schools be es- 
tablished in each township, provided a 
lot of ground not less than four acres 
and a sufficient house erected thereon, 
be provided and vested in the board of 
public instruction. And that every in- 
corporated town in the State contain- 
ing more than one hundred families, 
shall be divided into wards. Such 
town containing less than cne hnndred 
families shall be considered as forming 
only one ward. Each ward upon con- 
veying to the board of public instruc 
tion a lot of ground of the value of two 
hundred dollars or upwards, and erect- 
ing there on a house of the value of two 
hundred and fifty dollars, shall be en- 
titled to the privileges and benefits of a 
primary school. 

2. The court of pleas and quarter 
sessions shall annually elect for each 
township in their respective counties, 
five persons as trustees of the primary 
schools to be established in such town- 

ship, who shall have power to fix the 
scites of the primary schools to be es- 
tablished therein, superintend and man- 
age the same, make rules for their gov- 
ernment, appoint trustees, appoint teach- 
ers, and remove them at pleasure. They 
shall select such children residing with- 
in their township, whose parents are 
unable to pay for their schooling, who 
shall be taught at the said schools for 
three years without charge. They shall 
report to the board of public instruc- 
tion, the rules which they may adopt 
for the government of said schools, and 
shall annually report to the said board 
the state of the schools, the number and 
conduct of the pupils, and their progress 
in learning; the conduct of the teacher 
and also every thing connected with the 
schools of any importance. 

3. In addition to the pupils who are 
to be taught free from charge, the teach- 
er of any primary school may receive 
as many other scholars, and at the rates, 
which the trustees of the school may 
establish ; and the trustees may pur- 
chase for the use of the pupils educated 
at the public expense, such books, sta- 
tiorary and other implements for learn- 
ing, as may be necessary. 

4th. The teacher of each primary 
school shall receive a salary of one hun- 
dred dollars, to be paid out of the fund 
for public instruction. 

This plan for establishing primary 
schools is simple, and can easily be car- 
ried into execution. It divides the ex- 
penses of these schools bef ween the pub- 
lic and those individuals for whose im- 
mediate benefit they are established ; it 
secures a regular stipend to the teach- 
ers, and yet holds out inducements to 
them to be active and faithful in their 


249 - 

calling ; and it enables every neighbor- 
hood, whether the number of its inhabi- 
tants be few or many, to have a primary 
school, at the cheap price of a small lot 
of ground, and a house erected thereon 
sufficient for the purposes of the school 
— were these schools in full operation 
in every section of the State, even in the 
present state of our population, more 
than fifteen thousand children would 
be annually taught in them. These 
schools would be to the rich a conve- 
nience, and to the poor, a blessing. 


After children shall have gone 
through the course of studies prescribed 
for the primary schools, those of them 
who are to be further advanced in edu- 
cation, will be placed in the Academies, 
where they will be instructed in lan- 
guages, ancient and modern history, 
mathematics and other branches of 
science preparatory to their entering 
into the University. The Academies 
shall be located in different districts of 
the State for the convenience of the 
people, and the expenses of purchasing 
suitable sites and erectii g thereon the 
necessary buildings, shall be divided be- 
tween the public at large and the seve- 
ral districts. Private liberality has of 
late erected many small Academies in 
the State, which deserve the considera- 
tion and patronage of the Legislature. 
From the benefits which have accrued 
to the public from these small Acade- 
mies, we may form an opinion of the 
good which would flow from larger in- 
stitutions of the same sort, if regularly 
located throughout the State, and aid- 
ed with suitable funds. The state of 
learning among us will never become 
respectable, until we have such regular 

Academical institutions — Your commit- 
tee do therefore recommend, 

1st. That the board of public instruc- 
tion shall divide the State into ten Aca- 
demical districts, containing each, one 
or more counties, and as near as practi- 
cable, an equal number of white popu- 
lation, and number the districts from 
one upwards. 

2d. When in any of the districts 
there is an Academy already establish- 
ed, the trustees thereof may submit to 
the board of public instruction, its rela- 
tive position to the boundaries of the 
district, the number and dimensions of 
the buildings, their value and state of 
repair, the extent of ground on which 
they are erected : the number and de- 
nomination of the professors and teach- 
ers employed therein, and of the pupils 
educated thereat. If the board should 
think the Academy properly situated 
for the benefit of the district, and that 
its buildings and grounds will answer 
their intended purposes, notice thereof 
shall be given to the trustees ; and 
upon conveyance being made" of the 
said ground and houses to the board of 
public instruction, the academy shall be 
entitled to the same benefits which may 
be extended to any academy that may 
be erected, and shall be subject to the 
same rules and regulations in relation 
to the government thereof, which the 
board of public instruction or the gen- 
eral assembly may provide for the gen- 
eral government of the academies of the 
State. But the trustees of such acade- 
mies may continue to hold their offices 
and to supply vacancies occurring in 
their body. 

3d. In case the buildings of any 
academy already established and so ac- 



cepted by the board of public instruc-j 
tion ; require repair or any enlargement 
or alteration, the board shall appropri- 
ate a sum sufficient to repair, alter or 
enlarge the said buildings, provided the 
sum so appropriated shall not exceed 
one-third part of the entire value of 
such buildings, when so altered, repair- 
ed or enlarged. The alterations or en- 
largement of the buildings shall be plan- 
ned by the board of public instruction 
and executed according to their order. 

4th. In any academical district where 
there is no academy established, or 
none which the board of public instruc- 
tion shall think will answer their intend- 
ed purpose, the boa d may accept a lot 
of ground, of sufficient extent in their 
estimation, and conveniently situated 
for the erection of an academy for the 
district ; provided that two-third parts 
of the sum required for the erection of 
suitable buildings for the said academy 
be previously subscribed by one or more 
persons, and the payment thereof as- 
sured to the board of public instruction. 

5th. When any conveyance of the 
lot of ground on which the building* 
are to be erected, shall be accepted of 
by the board, they shall appoint eleven 
persons residing within the district, 
trustees of the academy, who shall be 
deemed a body corporate by such title 
as the board of public instruction shall 
prescribe ; shall have and enjoy all the 
rights and privileges of a corporation; 
shall jave power to elect a president 
from their own body, and to fill all va- 
cancies which shall occur therein. They 
may make, alter or amend, such bye- 
laws, rules and regulations, as they shall 
deem necessary or expedient, for the 
government of their own body, and of 
the professors, teachers and pupils of 

the academy of which they have charge; 
provided they be not inconsistent with 
such general regulations as the board 
of public instruction may provide for 
the general government of the acade- 
mies of the State. i 

6th. The trustees shall provide by 
contract for the erection of the necessa- 
ry builcings for their academy, and ap- 
point a treasurer who shall have author- 
ity to collect the several sums subscrib- 
ed thereto, and shall be entitled to re- 
ceive in virtue of their order upon the 
board of public instruction, signed by 
their president, such sums of money as 
the board may, from time to time, ap- 
propriate for the erection of the build- 
ings, their repairs or alterations, salaries 
of professors and teachers, and other 
purposes of the academy. 

7th. As soon as any academy is ready 
for the admission of pupils, the trustees 
may recommend to the board of public 
instruction, any person to be a professor 
or teacher therein, who, if approved, 
after examination in some mode to be 
prescribed by the board, shall be regard- 
ed as a professor or teacher of such 
academy, but subject to removal at the 
pleasure of the trustees or of the 
board. When vacancies shall occur 
among the professors or teachers during 
the recess of the board, the trustees 
may make temporary appointments, to 
be confirmed or disapproved by the 
board at their next session. 

8 th. The trustees of any academy may 
fix the salaries of their respective teach- 
ers, subject to the control ot the board 
of public instruction : One-third part of 
the salaries shall be paid by the board 
at such times and in such way as they 
shall prescribe. 



9th. The professors and teachers in 
any academy shall be bound to instruct 
free of charge for tuition, the pupils 
whom the board of public instruction 
may designate to be taught in said 
academy at the public expense. 

Your committee have perhaps gone 
into unnecessary details respecting the 
academies. Their plan simply is, to di- 
vide the State into ten academical dis- 
tricts, and that one academy be erected 
in each, that the State shall advance 
one-third of ths sum required for the 
erection of necessary buildings, and one- 
third of the sum to be paid in salaries 
to professors and teachers — making it 
their duty to teach poor children free of 


This institution has been in operation 
for twenty years, and has been emi- 
nently useful to the State. It has con- 
tributed, perhaps, more than any other 
cause, to diffuse a taste for reading 
among the people, and excite a spirit of 
liberal improvement; it has contributed 
to change our manners and elevate our 
character; it has given to society many 
useful members, not only in the liberal 
professions, but in the walks of private 
life ; and the number of its pupils who 
are honored with seats in this legisla- 
ture is a proof of the estimation iu which 
they are held- by their fellow-citizens. 
"When this institution was first founded, 
it was fondly hoped that it would be 
cherished with pride by the legislature. 
But unfortunately the nature of the funds 
with which it was endowed, in a short 
time rendered it odious to some, and 
cooled the ardor of others. The 
torrent of prejudice could not be stem- 
med ; the fostering protection of the 
legislature was withheld, and the insti- 

tution left dependent upon private mu- 
nificence. Individuals contributed not 
only to relieve its necessities, but to 
rear up its edifices and establish a per- 
manent fund for its support. At the 
head of these individuals, stood the late 
Governor Smith, Charles Gerard and 
Gen. Thomas Person. The first two 
made valuable donations in lands, and 
the last, in a sum of money with which 
one of the halls of the university has been 
erected. To enable them to complete 
the main edifice, the trustees have been 
compelled to sell most of the lands de- 
vised to them by Mr. Gerard, and as 
the lands conveyed to them by Gover- 
nor Smith lie within the Indian bounda- 
ry, the trustees have not been able as 
yet to turn them to a productive ac- 
count. With the aid thus derived from 
individuals, together with occasional 
funds derived from escheats, the in- 
stitution has progressed thusfar. — 
The Legislatuie, after exhausting- 
its patience in endeavoring to col- 
lect the arrearages of debts due to the 
State, transferred to the trustees of the 
University those arrearages, with the 
hope that they would be able to enforce 
payment. But no better fortune has 
attended their efforts than those of the 
State, and this transfer has proved of 
of no avail to the institution. The sur- 
plus remaining in the hands of admin- 
istrators, where the next of kin have 
made no claim within seven years, have 
also been transferred to the trustees ; 
but this has as yet yielded a very small 
fund, and probably never will yield 
much. The legislature have enlarged 
the rights of inheritance, and in this 
way have nearly deprived the institu- 
tion of the revenue from escheats. — 
Amidst all these embarrassments, the 



trustees have never lost sight of the ne- 
cessity of accumulating a fund in bank 
stock, the annual proceeds of which 
would enable to continue the operations 
of the institution ; and they have suc- 
ceeded so far as to be able to support 
two professorships, and employ two or 
three tutors. But there is little pros- 
pect of adding to this fund, until the 
lands given by Governor Smith can be 
sold, and if that period be waited for, 
the institution must necessarily languish 
and sink in respectability. It is at this 
moment almost destitute of a Library,* 
and entirely destitute of the Aparatus 
necessaiy for instructing youth in the 
mathematical and physical sciences. — 
Add to this, that one half of the neces- 
sary buildings have not been erected. 

In this state of things, and at a mo- 
ment when former prejudices have died 
away, when liberal ideas begin to pre- 
vail, when the pride of the State is 
awakening and an honorable ambition 
is cherished for her glory, an appeal is 
made to the patriotism and the gener- 
ous feelings of the legislature in favor 
of an institution, which in all civilized 
nations, has been regarded as the nurse- 
ry of moral greatness, and the palla- 
dium of civil liberty. That people who 
cultivate the sciences and the arts with 
most success, acquire a most enviable 
superiority over others. Learned men 
by their discoveries and works give a 
lasting splendor to national character; 
and such is the enthusiasm of man, that 
there is not an individual, however 
humble in life his let may be, who does 
not feel proud to belong to a country 

* It is so still, 1854. 

honored with great men and magnifi- 
cent institutions. It is due to North 
Carolina, it is due to the great man,* 
who first proposed the foundation of 
the University, to foster it with the pa- 
rental fondness and to give to it an 
importance commensurate with the high 
destinies of the State. Your commit- 
tee deem this subject of so much inter- 
est, that they beg leave in a future re- 
port to submit to the two houses a plan 
for increasing the funds of the Univer- 

This institution has uniformly labor- 
ed under the double disadvantages of a 
want of funds, and the want ot subsidi- 
ary institutions, in wlrcb. youth could 
be instructed preparatory to their en- 
tering upon a course of the higher 
branches of science in the University. 
This latter disadvantage has been so 
great, that the trustees have been com- 
pelled to convert the University, in part 
into a grammar school. This disadvan- 
tage has been of late removed in part, 
by the establishment of academies in 
different parts of the State ; but it will 
continue to be much felt, until regular 
academical institutions shall be made 
and the course of instruction prescribed 
for them. 

Another serious disadvantage and a 
consequence of the one last mentioned, 
is the necessity which the peculiar state 
of academical learning has imposed up- 
on the trustees, of conferring the honor- 
ary degrees, of an University upon 
voung men who have not made that 
progress in the sciences, of which their 
diploma purports to be a testimonial. 

'Seneral "William R. Davie. 



This is an evil that is found in almost 
all the Universities of the Union. A 
young man enters into an University 
with only slight acquirements in classi- 
cal education, and after remaining four 
years, during which time he is instruct- 
ed in only the outlines of the general 
principles of science, he receives a de- 
gree, the consequence is that he leaves 
the University with his mind trained 
only to general and loose habits of 
thinking : and if he enters into profes- 
sional life, he has to begin his educa- 
tion anew. The great object of educa- 
tion is to discipline the mind, to give to 
it habits of activity, of close investiga- 
tion : in fine, to teach men — to think. 
And it is a reproach upon almost all 
the literary institutions of our country, 
that the course of studies pursued in 
them teach most young men only how 
to become literary trifiers. Their mul- 
tifarious occupations dissipate their time 
and attention. They acquire much su- 
perficial knowledge ; but they remain 
ignorant of the profounder and more 
abstract truths of philosophy. Indeed 
the road to the profound sciences is of 
late so infested with pleasant elementa- 
ry books, Compilations, Abridgments, 
Summaries and Encyclopedias, that few, 
very few, in our country ever travel it. 
To remove this reproach upon the 
state of learning among us, a new plan 
of instruction in our university must be 
organized ; a plan which shall give to 
the different classes in the institution, 
an arrangement founded upon a philo- 
sophical division of the present improv- 
ed state of knowledge ; and which in 
its execution shall train the mind both 
to liberal views and minute investiga- 

Your committee have been thus par- 
ticular in submitting to the two houses 
an exposition of the actual condition of 
their university, with a view of recal- 
ling their consideration to the solemn 
injunction of the constitution as to ev- 
ery part of the subject referred to them ; 
" that a school or schools shall be estab- 
lished by the legislature for the conve- 
nient instruction of youtb, with such 
salaries to the masters, paid by the pub- 
lic, as may enable them to instruct at 
low prices ; and all useful learning shall 
be duly encouraged and promoted in 
' one or more universities." Our univer- 
sity is the only institution which the 
legislature has yet founded and endow- 
ed in compliance with this injunction ; 
but even as to this institution the spirit 
of the constitution is far from beino- 


complied with. We have not buildings 
for the accommodation of youth, nor 
books nor apparatus for their instruc- 
tion — your committee do therefore re- 
commend : 

1st. That three additional buildings 
be erected at the university ; two, for 
the accommodation of students, and 
one for the library and apparatus. This 
last building to contain suitable rooms 
for the delivery of lectures by the differ- 
ent professors. 

2d. That a library and suitable appa- 
ratus for instructing youth in the math- 
ematical and physical sciences, be pro- 
cured for the use of the said institution. 

3d. That funds be assigned for en- 
dowing two professorships, and support- 
ing six additional teachers. 

These are the present wants of the 
university, as our population encreases, 
the number of buildings must be en- 
creased, and more funds be provided for 



supporting teachers. In a subsequent 
part of this report your committee have 
recommended that there be four classes 
in the university with a professor at the 
head of each, who shall be assisted 
with such adjunct profesors or teachers, 
as the state of the institution may re- 


1st. In the primary schools should 
be taught reading, writing and arith- 
metic. A judicious selection of books 
should from time to time be made by 
the board of public instruction for the 
use of small children : Books which 
wil^ excite their curiosity and improve 
their moral dispositions. And the 
board should be empowered to compile 
and have printed for the use of primary 
schools, such books as they may think 
will best subserve the purposes of intel- 
lectual and moral instruction. In these 
books should be contained many of the 
historical parts of the old and new tes- 
tament, that children may early be 
made acquainted with the book which 
contains the word of truth, and the doc- 
trines of eternal life. 

2d. In the academies should be 
taught the Latin, Greek, French and 
English languages, the higher rules of 
arithmetic, the six first books of Euclid's 
elements, Algebra, Geography, the ele- 
ments of Astronomy, taught with the 
use of the Globes, ancient and modern 
history : The basis of a good education 
is classical and mathematical knowl- 
edge ; and no young man ought to be 
admitted into the university without 
such knowledge. 

3d. In the university the course of 
education should occupy four years; 
and there should be four classes, to be 

1st. The class o f languages — In this 
class should be studied, 1st. the more 
difficult Latin, Greek and French clas- 
sics ; 2. Ancient and modern history ; . 
3. Belles letters ; 4. Rhetoric. 

2d. The class of mathematics — In this 
class should be studied, 1. pure mathe- 
matics ; 2. Their application to the 
purposes of physical science. 

3d. The class of the physical sciences. 
In this class should be taught, 1, phys- 
ics ; 2, Chemistry ; 3, The philosophy 
of natural history ; 4, Mineralogy ; 5, 
Botany ; 6, Zoology. 

4th. The class of moral and political 
science. — In this class should be taught, 

1, The philosophy of the human mind ; 

2, morals ; 3, the law of nature and of 
nations ; 4, government and legislation ; 
5, political economy. 


The great object of education is in- 
tellectual and moral improvement ; and 
that the mode of instruction is to be 
preferred which best serves to effect 
this object. That mode is to be fouud 
only in a correct knowledge of the 
human mind, its habits, passions, 
and manner of operation. The philos- 
ophy of the mind, which in ages pre- 
ceding had been cultivated only in its 
detached branches, has of late years re- 
ceived form and system in the schools 
of Scotland. This new science promi- 
ises the happiest results. It has sapped 
the foundation of scepticism by estab- 
lishing the authority of those primitive 
truths and intuitive principles, which 
form the basis of all demonstration ; it 
has taught to man the extent of his in- 
te'lectual powers, and marking the line 
which separates truth from hypothetical 
conjecture, has pointed out to his view 



the boundaries which Providence has 
prescribed to his enquiries. It has 
determined the laws of the various fac- 
ulties of the mind, and furnished a sys- 
tem of philosophic logic for conducting 
our enquiries in every branch of fenowl- 
«dge. This new science has given birth 
to new methods of instruction ; meth- 
ods, which being founded upon a correct 
knowledge of the faculties of the mind, 
have eminently facilitated their devel- 
opment. Pestalozzi in Switzerland, and 
Joseph Lancaster in England, seem to 
have been most successful in the appli- 
cation of new methods to the instruc- 
tion of children. Their methods are 
different, but each is founded upon a 
profound knowledge of the human mind. 
The basis of each method is ; the ex- 
citement of the curiosity of children ; 
thereby awakening their minds and pre- 
paring them to receive instruction. The 
success which has attended the applica- 
tion of their methods, particularly that 
of Lancaster, has been astonishing. — 
Although but few years have elapsed 
since Lancastrian schools were first es- 
tablished, they have spread over the 
British empire, extended into the conti- 
nent of Europe, the Island of St. Do- 
mingo, and the United States. Various 
improvements in the details of his plan 
have been suggested by experience and 
adopted ; and it is probable that in time, 
his will become the universal mode of 
instruction for children. The Lancas- 
trian plan is equally distinguished by its 
simplicity, its facility of application, the 
rapid intellectual improvement which it 
gives, and the exact discipline which it 
enforces. The moral effects of the plan 
are also astonishing ; exact and correet 
habits are the surest safeguards of mo- 

rals ; and it has been often remarked, 
that out of the immense number of 
children and grown persons instructed 
in Lancaster's schools, few, very few, 
have ever been prosecuted in a court of 
justice for any offence. Your commit- 
tee do therefore recommend, that when- 
ever it be practicable, the Lancastrian 
mode of instruction be introduced into 
the primary schools. The general prin- 
ciples of this method may be success- 
fully introduced into the academies and 
university: — And your committee in- 
dulge the hope, that the board of pub- 
lic instruction, and the professors and 
teachers in these respective institutions, 
will use their best endeavors to adopt 
and enforce the best methods of instruc- 
tion which the present state of knowl- 
edge will enable them to devise. 


In a republic the first duty of a citi- 
zen is obedience to the law. We ac- 
knowledge no sovereign but the law, 
and from infancy to manhood our chil- 
dren should be taught to bow with re- 
verence to its majesty. In childhood 
parental authority enforces the first les- 
sons of obedience; in youth, this au- 
thority is aided by the municipal law, 
which in manhood wields the entire su- 
premacy. As the political power and 
the social happiness of a state depend 
upon the obedience of its citizens, it be- 
comes an object of the first importance 
to teach youth to reverence the law, 
and cherish habits of implicit obedi- 
ence to its authority. Such obedience 
not only contributes to the strength 
and tranquility of the state, but also 
constitutes the basis of good manners, 
of deference and respect in social inter- 



course. But in our country, youth gen- 
erally become acquainted with the free- 
dom of our political institutions, much 
sooner than with the principles upon 
whieh' that freedom is bottomed, and by 
which it is to bo preserved ; and few 
learn, until experience teaches tbem in 
the school of practical life, that true 
liberty consists not in doing what they 
please, but in doing that which the law 
permits. The consequence has been, 
that riot and disorder have dishonored 
almost all the colleges and Universities 
of the Union. The temples of science 
have been converted into theatres for 
acting disgraceful scenes of licentious- 
ness and rebellion. How often has the 
generous patriot shed tears of regret 
for such criminal follies of youth ! Fol- 
lies which cast reproach upon learning, 
and bring scandal upon the state. This 
evil can only be corrected by the moral 
effects of early education ; by instilling 
into children upon the first dawnings 
of reason, the principles of duty, and 
by nurturing those principles as reason 
advances, until obedience to authority 
shall become a habit of their nature. — 
When this course shall be found inef- 
fectual, the arm of the civil power must 
be stretched forth to its aid. 

The discipline of a University may 
be much aided by the arrangement of 
the buildings, and the location of the 
different classes. Each class should live 
together in separate buildings, and each 
be under the special care of its own pro- 
fessors and teachers. A regular system 
of subordination may in this way be 
established ; each class would have its 
own character to maintain, and the 
Esprit de Corps of classes would influ- 
ence all their actions. Similar arrange- 

ments, may, in part, be made in the 
several academies, and the like good ef- 
fect expected from them. 

The amusements of youth may also 
be made auxiliary to the exactness of 
discipline. The late president of the 
United States, Mr. Jefferson, has re- 
commended upon this part of the sub- 
ject, that through the whole course of 
recreation on certain days, all the stu- 
dents should be taught the manual ex- 
ercise, military evolutions and manoeuv- 
res, should be under a standing organi- 
zation as a military corps, and with pro- 
per officers to train and command them. 
There can be no doubt, that much may 
be done in this way towards enforcing 
habits of subordination and strict disci- 
pline — it will be the province of the 
board of public instruction, who have 
the general superintending care of all 
the literary institutions of the state, to 
devise for them systems of discipline 
and government; and your committee 
hope they will discharge their duty 
with fidelity. 


One of the strongest reasons which 
we can have for establishing a general 
plan of public instruction, is the condi- 
tion of the poor children of our country. 
Such always has been, and probably al- 
ways will be the allotments of human 
life, that the poor will form a large por- 
tion of every community ; and it is the 
duty of those who manage the affairs 
of a State, to extend relief to the unfor- 
tunate part of our species in every way 
in their power. Providence, in the im- 
partial distribution of its favors, whilst 
it has denied to the poor many of the 
comforts of life, has generally bestowed 



upon them the blessing of intelligent 
children. Poverty is the school of ge- 
nius ; it is a school in which the active 
powers of man are developed and disci- 
plined, and in which that moral cour- 
age is acquired, which enables him to 
toil with diffiulties, privations and want. 
From this school generally come forth 
those men who act the principal parts 
upon the theatre of life ; men who im- 
press a character upon the age in which 
they live. But it is a school which if 
left to itself runs wild ; vice in all its de- 
praved forms grows up in it. The 
State should take this school under her 
special care, and nurturing the genius 
which there grows in rich luxuriance, 
give to it an honorable and profitable 
direction — poor children are the pecu- 
liar property of the State, and by pro- 
per cultivation, they will constitute a 
fund of intellectual and moral worth, 
which will greatly subserve the public 
interest. Your committee have there- 
fore endeavored to provide for the edu- 
cation cf all poor children in the prima- 
ry schools ; they have also provided for 
the advancement into the academies 
and university, of such of those child- 
ren, as are most distinguished for ge. 
nius and give the best assurance of fu- 
ture usefulness. For three years they 
are to be educated in the primary schools 
free of charge ; the portion of them who 
shall be selected for further advance- 
ment, shall during the whole course of 
their future education, be clothed, fed 
and taught at the public expense. The 
number of children who are to be thus 
advanced, will depend upon the state 
of the fund set apart for public instruc- 
tion, and your committee think it will 
be most advisable to leave the number 
Vol. IIL— 38. 

to the discretion of the board, who shall 
have charge of the fund : and also to 
leave to them the providing of some 
just and particular mode of advancing 
this number from the primary schools 
to the academies, and from the acade- 
mies to the university. 


If there be any of our species who 
are entitled to the peculiar considera- 
tion of the government, it is surely th<% 
deaf and dumb. Since the method of 
instructing them in language and 
science has been discovered, numerous 
asylums in different countries have been 
established for their instruction. While 
we are engaged in making provision 
for others, humanity demands that we 
should make a suitable provision for 
them. Your committee do therefore 
recommend that as soon as the state 
of the fund for public instruction will 
admit, the board who have charge of 
that fund, be directed to establish at 
some suitable place in the State, an 
asylum for the instruction of the deaf 
and dumb. 

Your committee have now submitted 
to the two houses their general views 
upon the subject referred to them. — 
They have proposed the creation of a 
fund for public instruction, the appoint- 
ment ©f a board to manage this fund, 
and to carry into effect the plan of edu- 
cation which they have recommended. 
This plan embraces a gradation of 
schools from the lowest to the highest, 
and contains a provision for the educa- 
tion of poof children — and of the deaf 
and dumb. 

When this or some other more judi- 
cious plan of public education shall be 
shed upon all, may we not indulge the 



hope, that men will be convinced that 
wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness 
and all her paths are paths of peace : 
and be induced by such conviction to 
regulate their conduct by the rule of 
christian morality, of doin^j unto others 
as they wish they would do unto them ; 
and that they will learn to do justly, to 

love mercy and to walk humbly befoie 
their God. 

Your committee will forthwith report 
bills to carry into effect the several meas- 
ures recommended in this report. 

Respectfully submitted, 

A. D. MURPHEY, Chairman. 

November 29, 1811. 


Many years ago, during the time that Mr. Clay was Speaker, the late Joseph Lancaster, who 
originated the system of education which perpetuates his name, was invited to deliver a lecture 
before the House of Representatives. Mr. CJay in introducing him to the House, remarked, 
that with the exception of the present incumbent, from the organization of the government to 
the present time, the chair had been filled by a succession of able, excellent, and distinguished 
men, but that it had never been more worthily occupied than it would be by the gentleman to 
whom he should yield it upon the present occasion. The venerable Quaker simply responded 
to the compliment, that man in his highest estate was nothing better than Glay. In connection 
with his lecture he recited the following lines : 


The Lion o'er his wild domains, 

Eules by the terror of his eye ; 
The Eagle of the rock retains, 

By force, his empire in the sky ; 
The Shark, the tyrant of the flood, 

Pursues his prey with quenchless rage, 
Parent and young, unwean'd from blood, 

Are still the same from age to age. 

Of all that live, and move, and breathe, 

Man only rises o'er his birth; 
He looks above, around, beneath — 

At once the heir of Heaven and Earth. 
Force, cunning, speed, which nature gave, 

The various tribes throughout her plan, 
Live to preserve, from death to save — 

These are the lowest powers of man. 

From strength to strength he travels on, 
He leaves the lingering brute behind, 

And when a few short years are gone, 
He soars a disembodied mind, 

Destined his future course sublime 
Through nobler, better paths to run, 

With him the certain end of time, 
Is but eternity begun. 

What aids him in his high pursuit, 

Opens, illumines, cheers the way, 
Discerns the immortal from the brute — 

God's image from the mould of clay ? 
'Tis Knowledge ! — Knowledge to the soul 

Is power, and liberty and peace, 
And, while celestial ages roll, 

The joys of knowledge shall increase. 

Aid then the generous plan which spreads 

The light with universal beams, 
And through the human desart leads 

Truth's living, pure, perpetual streams, 
Behold ! a new creation rise, 

New spirit breath'd into the clod, 
Where'er the voice of Wisdom cries — 

Man know thyself, and fear thy God ! 



From the Columbia Banner. 


Work, work, work, 

By the morning's earliest light ; 
Work, work, work, 

By the silent hours of night. 
The student sat by his desk alone, 

And sighed o'er the grievous wrong, 
And his flickering light but faintly shone, 

As he muttered the student's song. 

Dig, dig, dig, 

At the root of an Attic verb ; 
,Dig, dig, dig, 

For you're trying a stubborn herb ; 
And when you've spaded it all around, 

And you gather your strength for a haul, 
You wonder what ails the plaguy ground, 

To furnish a root so small ! 

Pore, pore, pore, 

Your eyes o'er the musty page ; 
Sell, sell, sell, 

New life for a buried age ; 
And so from the morning's earliest light, 

I cudgel my weary brain, 
Till the "starry eyes" look down at night, 

On a double world of pain. 

Look, look, look, 

As the maiden trips it by, 
Look, look, look, 

At the light of her azure eye. 
Beware ! or the theft may be too dear, 

If the wary spark should fly ; 
0, shame that a spring should be so near, 

And the lips so parched and dry. 

Hark! hark! hark! 

To the voice of the summer breeze ; 
List! list! list! 

To the harpings of the trees ; 
But sunder the chords that used to wake, 

The symphonies wild and sweet, 
And turn to the thunder sounds that shake 
I From the tramping of hostile feet. 

Strive, strive, strive, 

For a breath of public praise ; 
Strive, strive, strive, 

For the proud "commencement days ;" 
Then gather strength, as year by year, 

You delve in the buried past ; 
For your patient toil shall claim a square 

Of the old sheep's bide at last. 

The student sat by his desk alone, 

And sighed o'er the grievous wrong ; 
And the latest ray of his lamp was gone, 

Ere he finished the student's song. 
And still from the morning's earliest light 

He cudgels his weary brain, 
Till the gentle stars look down at night, 

And whisper, " 'tis not in vain." 

From the Analectic Magazine. 
'Twas summer, and a Sabbath eve, 

And balmy was the air, 
I saw a sight that made me grieve, 
And yet the sight was fair ; 
Within a little coffin lay 
Two lifeless babes as sweet as May. 
Like waxen dolls, that infants dress, 
The look of placid happiness 
Did on each face appear ; 
And in the coffin, short and wide, 
They lay together, side by side. 
And rosebud, nearly closed, I found 

Each little band within, 
And many a pink was strew'd around, 
With springs of jessamine ; 
And yet the flowers that round them lay 
Were not to me more fair than they. 
Their mother, as lilly pale, 

Sat by them on a bed, 
And, bending o'er them, told her tale, 
And many a tear she shed ; 
Yet oft she cried amidst her pain, 
My babes and I shall meet again. 

From the Greek Anthology. 
I would not change for cups of gold 
This little cup that you behold ; 
'Tis from the beech that gave a shade 
At noonday to my village maid. 
I would not change for Persian loom 
The humble matting of my room ; 
'Tis of those very rushes twined 
Oft pressed by charming Rosalinde. 
I would not change my lowly wicket, 
That opens on her favorite thicket, 
For portals proud, or towers that frown, 
The monuments of old renown. 
I would not change this foolish heart 
That learns from her to joy or smart, 
For his that burns with love or glory, 
And loses life to live in story. 
Yet in themselves my heart, my cot, 
My mat, my bowl I value not, 
By only as they one and all 
My lovely Rosalinde recall. 




"I have such eagerness of hope 
To benefit my kind." 

" But if be that like the Ark's lone doye 

My thoughts go forth and find no resting-place,' 
" Yet, yet sustain me Holiest." 

" What a picture you are, Carrie ! 
that letter, " dropping from your nerve- 
less hand, and those dark eyes," 

but I see there is something the matter, 
dearest. As L. E. L. says, I may doubt 
tears, but the flushed cheek and bright 
eye, never. Let me share your grief, 
my friend," and the warm-hearted girl 
threw herself on her knees beside Car- 
rie, and clasping her arms around her, 
looked earnestly and lovingly into her 

'■ If you had come in a few minutes 
later, dear Katie, " said Carrie as she 
stooped and pressed her lips to her 
friend's brow," you would have found 
me looking as usual. In all my pain- 
ful thoughts I soon come to the point : 
" What am I to do ?" and with the an- 
swer, " your duty, and trust in God," 
peace returns ; the eye softens, and the 
flush fades, Katie. But I have not 
reached that point yet. You must help 
me to it dear friend," and Carrie took 
up the lettter; "There is something 
here of Edward Warner." 

" Edward Warner ? ' gay, gallant ' 
Ned ! l mirror of courtesy !' Can there 
be anything of Mm to wound you, Car- 
rie «" 

"I will read you what Alice Carroll 
writes me of him :" 

" ■— — — And now, to answer, your 1 
query, " What do you think of Edward 
Warner?" "But another name for gay r 
clever, brilliant," says the world around 
me ; and I, Carrie, echo its words, in-j 
adequate though they are, to express 

" The flash of Wit, the bright Intelligence, 
The beam of Song, the blaze of Eloquence,' 

that characterizes that young genius.— 
To me quickness of perception, with 
the power of adaptation springing from 
it, is Mr. Warner's peculiar forte. I 
have never seen such quickness of per- 
ception ; just as your thoughts and feel- 
ings rise, he seizes them, and replies 
with an aptness and brillancy, that at 
first startles and dazzles you. But your 
own mind, it seems to me, soon catches 
the electric spark ; in conversing witm 
him all your powers are sounded by* 
that lightning perception, and brought 
into action by that winning adaptation. 
I am yet to know the mind so cold and 
dull that it cannot be warmed into life 
and action, by his vivifying, pervading 
genius. It is really wonderful to me to' 



see Mr. Warner in society. Often have 
I watched him passing round the room ; 
\ old and young, wise and foolish, gay 
and grave, all warming and bright'ning 
under the influence of his radiant, ver- 
satile mind. Again, mia Carrissima, 
am I reminded of Sheridan. 

" From the charm'd council to the festive board, 
Of human feelings the unbounded lord," 

And with all this, Carrie — with every 
gift and grace, mental and personal — 
with all that can dazzle and win. I 
know you will feel with me when I say 
tjl believe Mr. Warner to be wanting in 
high principle — in Truth. I have not 
failed to study a character so remarka- 
ble — an intellect so beautiful; but I 
,speak from surer knowledge than the 
result of my own study ; from my ac- 
quaintance with several things in his 
transactions with men wanting in truth- 
fulness and integrity. Much as we 
might feel, dearest Carrie, the want of 
imoral principle in any ene, how much 
ftnove painful it becomes when connect- 
ed with such lofty and beautiful mental 
endowments. Mr. Warner is ambi- 
tious. I see that his eye is fixed on a 
place among the Great of the land. — 
No wonder that such talents should as- 
jpire ; only in their aspirations maj T they 
be guided and controlled by lofty un- 
swerving moral principle ! O that he 
would reach the eminence to which he 
inspires, by an open, honorable, manly 
course ! not — not by intrigue and work- 
ing on the weaknesses of men. I see 
him, Carrie, and converse with him often, 
>yet never without a feeling of restless- 
ness and disquietude afterwards. Beau- 
tiful and intellectual as his conversa- 
tions are, they are wanting in all that 

brings rest to our seeking, unsatisfying 
being. I have wondered if he has ever 
"felt the distinction between mind and 
soul." Yet beautifully he talks of im- 
mortality — of religion. His imagina- 
tion soars higher on those subjects than 
on any other; but it brings with it 
nothing real; nothing on which the 
soul can stay. All is evidently only of 
the imagination ; the breathings of ge- 
nius — immortality. As to his bring- 
ing his heart, and mind, and life, under 
the living, practical influence of the re- 
ligion of which he so beautifully talks, 
I fear he has never thought of it. O 
Carrie! 'tis with a deep aud painful 
sigh that I turn from that bright, beau- 
tiful imagination— that lofty, searching 
intellect — that clear, sparkling wit — ■ 
" turn from all they bring, to all they 
cannot bring," and looking unto the 
end, ask, " what will that mind be in 
eternity i" 

Again the letter dropped from Car- 
rie's hand. There was a long silenee. 
Katie still knelt at her friend's side, but 
that earnest, loving face was now hid 
in her lap. And Carrie ! how felt she 
as again she reviewed the character of the 
young genius with whom she had passed 
many a social 'festive hour' in anima- 
ting, delightful converse ? O, earnestly 
as a woman might, had she striven to 
point that bright young spirit upward! 
And was it — must it all be in vain ! — ■ 
Katie was the first to speak. 

"O Carrie!" said she, looking up 
through smiles and tears, " I hope he 
will be a Christian yet." Carrie did 
not hear her. The last solemn ques- 
tion of the earnest writer, " What will 
that mind be in eternity ?" for the mo- 
ment engrossed her whole being — 



" that beautiful, glorious Intellect ! those 
winning, engaging qualities!" and al- 
most she shrieked, as all that the bible 
teaches of eternal punishment flashed 
across her mind ; but in another in- 
stant her soul, " as a bird unto the 
hill," had flown to its refuge, and rest- 
ing in the mighty love of a Redeemer, 
she bowed her head on her clasped 
hands, and found relief in a burst of 

Again Katie's sweet hopeful voice 
broke the silence. "Dear Carrie, I hope 
he will be a Christian jet." "And what 
can we do?" said Carrie, raising her 
head, " pray for him Katie — and Oh ! 
do we not every time we use those 
words in our litany, " That it may please 
thee to have mercy on all men." 
Katie ! how my heart goes abroad over 
this world of sin and sorrow in that 
prayer. Not one soul on earth is left 
out. Yes, we will pray and trust, my 

"Katie," said Carrie, after some min- 
utes silence, during which she had re- 
covered her usual manner; "I have 
never told you of an incident in my life 
which I dwell on with as much pleas- 
ure, I believe, as anything in the past. 
Its peculiar nature and connection with 
other persons, has kept me from speak- 
ing of it, even to you ; but it recurs to 
my mind now in a peculiarly pleasing- 
manner, and you shall share it with me. 
Two years ago, while on a visit to Ellen 
Moreton, I first met with Charles Gra- 
ham. I will give you in a few words what 
struck me most in his character, when 
I first knew him — his love for his coun- 
try, and for Ellen. A statesman — all 
his talents and energies were devoted to 
the prosperity and welfare of his coun- 

try. And then his love for Ellen — so 
lofty and true ! No wonder he seemed 
to me the embodiment of all that is 
knightly and chivalric in character. I 
looked more then to the merely heroic, 
Katie, than I do now. My friendship 
with Ellen soon attracted Mr. Graham 
to me. I received his advances with 
cordiality, and as our friendship grew, 
it became my darling romance, that 
Ellen and himself should be united. — 
Such a beautiful, harmonious contrast, 
I thought, in their characters ; he so 
nobly, grandly, manly ; she so gently, 
exquisitely womanly. 

One evening some weeks after I first 
met with Mr. Graham, Ellen was con- 
fined to her room by a severe head- 
ache, and as she thought it best to bs 
quiet, I left her and joined Mr. More- 
ton, and Frank, Ellen's brother, in the 
parlor. Frank was going out, " to a 
concert," he said, "with Miss Julia 
Raymond. But before I go, Miss Car- 
rie," said he, turning to me, " won't 
you go with me in the garden to select 
some flowers for Ellen ? I am so sorry 
about her head." I willingly assented, 
and after we had gathered the flowers, 
Frank propose we should sit down in a 
summer-house till I had arranged them. 
Frank was just from College, and of 
course abounding in tales of College- 
life, and as I shook my head at some 
of his exploits, our conversation insensi- 
bly grew more serious; and before eith- \ 
er of us were aware of it, we were earn- 
estly conversing on the faults and errors 
more particularly belonging to young 
men. Frank made excuses for many, 
and acknowledged many. " I know 
two or three John Burleys, on a small 
scale," he said, " John Burley in ' my 



novel,' you remember, Miss Carrie; 
young men whose faculties are appro- 
priated to just such objects as John 
Burley's were."* 1 

" And who will only leave a name to 
point a moral !" I exclaimed : " 
Frank ! with what pleasure do I turn 
from the contemplation of abused and 
perverted intellect, to that which is 
rightly directed and nobly applied. Mr. 
Graham for example — with what plea- 
sure do I look to his lofty character !" 
" I do not know that Graham is so 
much better than the rest of us," said 
Frank, satirically ; Miss Carrie, how 
would you reconcile the daily habit of 
swearing with your exalted ideas of 
Graham's character?" I do not be- 
lieve, Katie, Frank had the slighestidea 
of the impression this would make on 
my mind ; but you can imagine what a 
sinking of the heart I felt. " My Hero ! 
my Frieud!" I thought, "and Ellen — 
my gentle, sensitive, christian Ellen — 
can I — ought I, to wish her to marry 
him now?" Frank was talking to me, 
but I did not listen to him, till he called 
my attention by taking my hand. — 
" Only forgive me, dear Miss Carrie," 
he said, "and I will leave you." It was 
unkind and thoughtless in me to say 
what I did, but indeed you feel it too 
much. Graham is an honorable, kigh- 
souled man as ever lived, but he is ex- 
citable and passionate — and — you will 
forgive me, dear Miss Carrie ?" I bow- 
ed my head, and Frank pressed my 
hand, and was gone. 

Left alone, I tried to think, but for 
some time I could only/eeZ. The same 
deep sorrow which I feel on the con- 
templation of Edward Warner's charac- 
ter — the union of the lofty and beauti- 

ful in mind, with the immoral and irre- 
ligious in principle— had taken posses- 
sion of my heart. 

As I dwelt on all that was lofty in 
Mr. Graham's character, particularly his 
earnest, working love for his country, 
words came into my mind, Katie, the 
the effect of which I shall never forget — 
'•'■'because of swearing the land mourneth" 
How utter — how utter the vanity of 
the love and devotion to the laud on 
which he called down the curse of God 
every day ! And Ellen ! could I wish 
her to marry a man who lived in the 
habitual violation of a known law of 
God — of propriety of conduct — and 
strange inconsistency with that heroic 
devotion to his country ! — of a law of 
his own State ? No. I felt it must not 
be — something must be done. Long 
and earnestly I thought, and at last 
came to the conclusion that nothing re- 
mained but to appeal to Mr. Graham 
himself. It was indeed a startling con- 
clusion, Katie, but what could I do ? — 
Tell Ellen — I believed she would reject 
him — but what then ? Resign her per- 
haps to a yearning, bleeding heart — 
that I might do, for stay here, and hap- 
piness forever was for Ellen. But Mr. 
Graham ! to what could I resign him ? 
To devote himself to his country ? As 
he then lived, a chimera as false as it 
was fleeting. Those words of the pro- 
phet seemed to ring in my ears urging 
me to it. The part Frank had in 
it troubled me a little, after I had con- 
cluded what to do : " But," I thought, 
the lesser motive must yield to the 
greater, and I will tell Frank all about 
it afterwards." And then came the 
thought — " Mr. Graham may not ap- 
preciate my motives — he may think it. 



unwomanly, presuming" — and almost 
I gave it up. Again I went over the 
whole in my mind, and again came to 
my first conclusion. I could not be 
content to leave either Ellen or Mr. 
Graham as they wer^, and knew not 
what else to do. Having come to a 
fixed resolution, I went up stairs to El- 
len's room. She was asleep. The 
glimpse I caught of her sweet face, as I 
laid the flowers Frank sent on her pil- 
low, strengthened my resolution. I 
only awaited the first opportunity, 
Katie, to make my startling appeal to 
Mr. Graham. I said not a word of 
Ellen ; my knowledge of his pride, and 
delicacy for her, alike forbade it ; I 
spoke not of the law of God which he 
had trampled under his feet ; but to that 
which was most lofty and generous in 
his nature — to that which I had most 
hope of touching — to his love for his 
country — I appealed ; enforcing my 
appeal by the words which had taken 
such hold of my own mind — " because 
ofsioearing the land mourneth" I can 
scarcely tell you, my dear friend, how 
Mr. Graham first received my startling 
address. You can imagine I was agi- 
tated and excited almost beyond con- 
trol. My impression is, however, that 
unmingled astonishment was his first 
sensation ; but it soon gave way to an- 
ger. His eyes literally blazed — and 
Katie ! I saw that an oath trembled on 
his lips; but he restrained it ; and as I 
uttered the words into which' I know I 
poured my whole, full soul — " because 
ofsioearing the land mourneth'" — he 
evidently started ; but in an instant he 
commanded himself, and spoke in a 
voice more bitterly sarcastic than any I 
have ever heard before or since. " Miss 

Richmond must excuse him," he said, 
" it was really something so extraordi- 
nary for a young lady to undertake the 
surveillance of a gentleman's conduct, 
and inform him of the result, that he 
was altogether unprepared to reply. — 
He could only regret that the investi- 
gation had not proved more satisfacto- 
ry " — and with those stinging words 
and a bow he left me. You can imag- 
ine, Katie, what a deep wound this 
gave me, but I knew I had done what 
I believed to be right and I left the rest 
to God. Days passed away without 
bringing Mr. Graham, but I heard him 
spoken of as being still in town. Ellen's 
cheek grew pale, but she said nothing. 
I had thought it best at first not to say 
anything of what had passed between 
Mr. Graham and myself, but as days 
wore on and we neither saw, nor heard 
from him, I thought that I ought to 
tell Ellen, and afterwards Frank, all 
that had parsed ; and had just come to 
the conclusion to do so, when a cir- 
cumstance occurred which changed the 
whole state of my feelings. We had 
been to church one night — Ellen, Mr. 
Moreton and I — and were passing 
throught the vestibule on our return 
home, when a gentleman from the 
number standing around stepped to my 
side, and on lifting my eyes you can 
imagine my surprise on seeing Mr. Gra- 
ham. At my first glance, I saw that 
he looked pale and haggard. He spoke 
quickly and in a voice of earnest entrea-- 
ty; "Miss Carrie, only allow me to accom- 
pany you home to-night — I have some- ' 
thing to say to you. I bowed my head 
and took his arm. We walked on sev- 
eral minutes in silence — Ellen and her 
father in advance. At length he spoke : 



" Miss Carrie, can you forgive my un- 
manly, ungentlemanly conduct when 
I saw you last ? I cannot forgive my- 
self." I lifted my eyes full of tears to 
bis face — " fully and freely," I said. — 
The tears started to his own eyes ; " 
Miss Carrie," he said, " I am utterly 
wretched— what shall I do?" The 
moon shone brightly on Mr. Graham's 
face as he spoke, and never shall I for- 
get, Katie, the look of weakness and 
irresolution which was stamped on it. 
It pained me so much to see that ex- 
pression in the face of one whom I had 
thought so distinguishingly manly and 
self-reliant, that I could scarcely refrain 
from bursting into tears ; but by a 
strong effort I controlled myself, and 
replied — "I \ull tell you what I 
would do if I was wretched, Mr. Gra- 
ham — what the unhappy can only do 
— read the Bible and pray." He made 
no reply ; his head was turned so that 
I could not see his face. "Miss Carrie," 
he said after a few minutes' silence, 
turning to me again, and his face was 
now more calm ; " I leave town to-night ; 
I want to be alone — away from people 
I know, that I may tbink undisturbed. 
I wished to see you that I might ask 
your forgiveness and to request you to 
tell your friend all that has occurred ; 
and tell her if ever I have the heart to 
work for my country again — if ever I 
I am worthy to offer her my love, I will 
return." " And you will— I know 
you will !" said I cheerfully and hope- 
fully — "your country's homage, and 
Ellen will yet be yours." We had 
now reached the gate. He wrung my 
hatad : " Only read the Bible, and pray," 
again I whispered. A ray of light 
flashed from his eyes — and he was 

Mr. Graham told me afterwards, Ka- 
tie, that as soon as I made my startling 
communication to him, the thought 
struck him that if Ellen knew it she 
would regard it just as I did ; and that 
it would in all probability lead her to 
reject him. And though he believed 
Ellen loved him, not a thought of 
changing one iota from what he was on 
her account occurred to his mind. — 
Well, had I read him there. Hence- 
forward, he thought, all his being would 
be devoted to •his country. But those 
words from the Bible — " because of 
swearing the land rnourneth " — spoken 
with all the energy of truth and feeling 
started from this. At the moment I 
uttered them, he said, they made a far 
deeper impression than I imagined ; 
but pride and anger came to his aid 
and caused those last bitter words. — 
After be left me, he sar 1 , he despised 
himself for having spoken, and acted 
as he had done ; and would have re- 
turned and asked my forgiveness, but 
pride forbade ; and he went to his room 
with the consciousness of having acted 
unworthy of a man, towards a woman 
— and one for whom he had professed 
a friendship — and who, as much as he 
might condemn what she had done, he 
knew was sincere ; and he carried with 
him also the belief that Ellen was lost 
to him — and those words — " because of 
swearing the land mourneth" 

He determined to try and forget it all 
in hard work for that idol — his coun- 
try ; but it would not do ; the very con- 
sciousness that he was working for his 
country, only served to keep those words 
more fully before his mind. I believe, 
Katie, only those who have experienced 
the fearful effects of a single, clinging, 



haunting idea, taking possession of the 
mind, can form any conception of what 
Mr. Graham suffered during the next 
few weeks. It may be that only the 
highly imaginative can suffer thus. I 
think I have read somewhere that it is 
an evidence of lofty imagination. Be 
that as it may — let philosophers and 
metaphysicians decide — I know but 
that it is so, and that in nothing is it so 
distressing, so lasting, so difficult to 
bring under the control of reason, or of 
faith, as in a matter of!%)nscience. For 
days and nights, Mr. Graham told me, 
those words never left him. He tried 
at first 10 shake them off by going into 
society. " It is a fearful thing he said to 
be alone with the consciousness of guilt." 
But it would not do — nothing would 
shake them off. They were borne to 
his ears on the voice of music ; they 
seemed to speak from the lips of beauty ; 
they were with him in the dance, the 
walk, the ride ; everywhere they met 
him. At last, he said, his mind became 
so fearfully affected on the subject, that 
if, in the convivial meetings he attended, 
he heard an oath, he almost looked for 
a visible manifestation of God's wrath on 
the land. His mind became at length 
in such a state that he gave up society ; 
work — trying to do anything. To use 
his own expressive words, " Everything 
seemed to have a curse on it." He 
opened the Bible, but it was only to tor- 
ture himself by reading those words, 
and all he could find of a similar na- 
ture. He thought of praying, but the 
oaths he had uttered for years, seemed 
to rise between him and God. In this 
state he resolved on the evening I saw 
him, to leave town, to travel, that he 
might get away from those he knew, 

and think. And then came the thought 
of Ellen and me ; those clays of suffer- 
ing had softened the proud man ; he 
could not go away without asking my 
forgiveness, and leaving some message 
for Ellen. He knew we were in the 
habit of going to church on that night, 
and determined to try and have an in- 
terview with me. Ellen he did not fed 
prepared to see. He waited in the ves- 
tibule 'till the services were over, and 
it was there he said he was struck for 
the first time in his life by the peculiar 
beauty and excellence of the prayer, for 
"The President of the United and all oth- 
ers iL authority," and the one for the 
" Senate and Representatives in Con- 
gress assembled." As soon as I ap- 
peared he came up to me. You know 
what followed. 

I told Ellen all that I then knew, and 
delivered Mr. Graham's message. Long 
and silently she wept in my arms, but 
I saw that Hope had dawned in her 
heart. I also told Frank, who readily 
forgave me for what I had doue, so far 
as he was concerned, but made many a 
comment on my own part. 

Weeks passed away, but brought no 
tidings of Mr. Graham. Of course he 
was the first object in Ellen's thoughts 
and mine, but she never alluded to him, 
and I very rarely. , We were learning 
that hard, hard lesson — "to wait." — 
To eager, earnest spirits how much easi- 
er "to labor!" I determined not to 
leave Ellen, until we either saw or heard 
from Mr. Graham. 

One day about two months after Mr. 
Graham had left town, Ellen and I were 
sitting alone in the parlor with our 
books and work, when I heard a ring 
at the door, and immediatety afterwards 



a step in the ball. I knew it at once, 
and saw by the deadly paleness which 
overspread Ellen's face that she did also. 
The door opened and Mr. Graham en- 
tered the room. Ellen did not move, 
and I arose to meet him. O Katie ! her 
heart could scarcely have throbbed more 
than mine, as I advanced, and extended 
my hand, and anxiously, almost fearful- 
ly, raised my eyes to his face, but what 
a look met me there ! From that clear 
dark eye there beamed a light I had 
never seen before; there was a gleam 
0/ it when I parted from him, but then 
struggling with darkness and sorrow ; 
now it was clear, high, calm, giving 
light to all around. What a contrast 
with the weak, irresolute, unmanly look 
which had so pained me when I saw 
him last ! The spirit looking upward, 
beamed in every lineament of that no- 
ble face, and involuntarily, I bowed my 
head. Not a word was spoken. He 
led me to the sofa where Ellen sat, and 
seated me beside her, and then stood 
before us. "Ellen," he said in a low 
voice, tremulous with feeling, " I have 
returned to my home, and toyou. During 
the last kvr months, I have thought, 
and felt, and struggled more than in 
all my life beside, and from these com- 
munings with myself, has grown a re 
s Jve, as sincere and earnest as ever was 
formed by man, to take the Bible, by 
the help of God, as my guide and trust 
through life, and in death. Ellen, can 
you trust me when time has tried me, 
or can you, can you, trust me now ?" I 
do not know, Katie, what Ellen said, or 
if she said anything. All I know is 
that instinct taught me to rise from 
my seat beside her, which was in an 
instant occupied, and as I left the room 

fl heard in a tone that thrilled even my 
heart, " Ellen, my own /" and in a low 
solemn voice, "Merciful God, I thank 
Thee!" ♦ 

"And they were married?" said Ka- 
tie, as she turned aside to wipe away 
the large tears which had gathered in 
her eyes at the conclusion of Carrie's 

" Of course," said Carrie, smilingly, 
"and, Katie, I would not give the look 
that Mr. Graham turned on me as I 
went up to congratulate him on his 
marriage, and the one that beamed 
from Ellen's sweet face "for all the wealth 
of the Indies !" Over many, many a 
dark hour have they shed a light since, 
reminding me in the beautiful words of 
Jeanie Deans, that " when the hour of 
trouble comes," " it is na what we hae 
dune for oursells, but what we have 
dune for others, that we think on maist 
pleasantly." " And," continued Carrie, 
as her mind again reverted to Edward 
Warner — " Katie ! was not I tho 
poor instrument by which Mr. Graham 
was led to noblest, highest life ? and 
may we not hope in regular intercourse 
with one so thoughtful, and earnest, and 
gentle, as Alice Carroll, that Edward 
Warner's mind may be led to the con • 
templation of man's true destiny ? and 
what good may we not hope from that ? 
And, we, Katie, we will hope and pray 
that those lofty talents may here on 
earth, be ennobled and guided by reli- 
gion ; and that in the end, that beauti- 
ful mind, purified from all earthly taint, 
may go on increasing in beauty and 
knowledge forever !" 

*' You remind me, dear Carrie," said 
Katie, rising, and taking up the work- 
box, she had thrown down on entering 



the room, " of something I was reading- 
to-day. Looking over some old pamph- 
lets and magazines, I cane across it, 
and liked it so much thaW^ put it in 
my work-box to bring to you. Here 
it is :" 

" An address delivered before the two 
Literary Societies of the University of 
North Carolina, &c. June, 25 — by 
the Rev. Thomas F.Davis." "I have 
read it, Katie, and sent it to my cousin 
Harry, long ago. If a more- beautiful 
production ever emanated from the 
heart and mind of a son of the Old 
North State, I am yet to see it. How 
well I remember the ecstasy with which 
I first read it — and now how it animates 
and delights me to turn over its pages. 
Oh ! how I do hope some of these true 
and beautiful thoughts 'fell into good 
ground ' on that day, and are now 
bringing forth in those young men 
' fruit' according to their several ability.' 
Yes, this reminds me of what we have 
been talking about ; listen : " The 
mind which seeks its glory without re- 
ligion prepares for itself but wretched- 
ness of existence, and the phrenzy of 
despair." how true it is ! " If the 
light that is in thee be darkness how 
great is that darkness." Only read the 
writings of genius without religion to 
be convinced of its truth. How one does 
feel it in Childe Harold— in that " set- 
tled ceaseless gloom :" 

" That will not look beyond the tomb, 
And cannot hope for rest before " — 

in that " fever at the core," which only 
the softening and blessed influence of 
the religion of Christ can heal. I know 
nothing, Katie, which leaves so painful 
an impression on the mind, as reading 

the works of genius without religion. 
They who have 

" Won every wreath — but that which will not 

Nor aught neglected — save Eternity!" 

Not only do you feel deeply at the 
knowledge of all that the writers suffer- 
ed while on earth, but the thought, 
" Where are those gifted, immortal 
spirits now — and how employed ?" 
awakens feelings which only religion 
can calm — and as the mind reverts to 
its own circle, of relations, friends, and 
acquaintances, your feelings can only 
6nd expression in the words of the 
Apostle, "I could wish that myself 
were accursed from Christ for my breth- 

Again : there was a silence ; broken 
at length by Katie, who had taken Mr. 
Davis's address from Carrie's hand and 
was turning over the leaves. " How 
beautifully this winds up, Carrie ; pray- 
ing those young men to step forward 
in the simple spirit of truth, and take 
her banner into their hands, and follow 
Him who in the trial of injustice that 
terminated in his death declared ' To 
this end was I born and for this cause 
came I into the world that I should 
bear witness unto the truth.' " 

" Yes, take the banner of truth into 
their hands, and follow Him who is the 
well-spring, the life of all truth," said 
Carrie — " without whom there is no 
truth. The young soldier may have to 
struggle through darkness, and error 
and prejudice, Katie, even in our land 
of light and liberty. Enough may be 
found in his own heart and mind to 
make the contest no easy one. But let 
him struggle on — never losing sight of 



Him under whose banner he has en- 
listed, and his will be "the shining 
light that shineth more and more unto 
the perfect day." What a beautiful 
object we are contemplating, Katie — a 
young, earnest spirit struggling after 
truth ! I was reading a little incident 
of Jansen the other day, in the intro- 
duction to Pascal's " Provincial Letters," 
which touched and interested me much. 
"Taciturn and contemplative in his 
habits he was frequently overheard, 
when taking his solitary walks in the 
o-arden of the monastery, to exclaim, 
" Veritas ! Veritas ! /" If that cry 
went sincerely from our hearts, Katie, 
with the light of truth we have, how 
would it elevate our whole lives, devel- 
ope our highest faculties, and influence 
our lightest words and actions. What 
an evidence there is of the want of that 
earnest cry for truth in the mistaken 
lives of thousands ; some among them 
Katie who would scorn what they call 
untruth — yet in their highest aims and 
daily lives, how far— how far — from 
the truth. 

And look at society ! O vanity, flat- 
tery, coquetry, ridicule ! how you rise 
as a living presence before my mind, as 
I speak of society. " Many falsehoods 
are told from interest, many from ill- 
nature, but from vanity most of all," 
it has perhaps been truly said. And 
flattery ! did you never, Katie, feel in- 
dignation and sorrow at the flattery too 
nice even to be noticed ? indignation 
that you should be so treated, and 
sorrow that one whom you wish to es- 
teem and admire should stoop to false- 
hood. And coquetry ! coquetry in word 
and manner ! the suffering you have 
caused both man and woman, if truth 

were known, might bear a witness 
against you from which your most reck- 
less votaries would shrink appalled. — 
And ridicule ! did you ever feel, Katie, 
as I have, how strange it is that many 
young people ridicule all that one, un- 
used to society, would suppose most na- 
tural and beautiful to youth ? Of- 
ten have I heard the almost beardless 
boy, treat things the very mention of 
which should call the light to his eye 
and the flush to his cheek, with the 
covert sarcasm or open sneer of the 
finished "man of the world." "Tell 
him when he is a man to reverence the 
dreams of his youth," but to what will 
the man look back in a youth all of 
whose jdad spring-time beauty was 
chilled and withered by the icy touch 
of ridicule ? Youth without " high 
thoughts — bright dreams" — love of 
country, and faith in woman ! O Katie ! 
it is spring without the sky — the ver- 
dure — the birds and flowers of spring. 
But in most cases I believe the young 
man's sneer "at all high and early 
truth " is affected. The heart may 
beat high with much that the lip dis- 
owns ; but let him take care ; not only 
is he guilty of falsehood, but he may 
become what he seems. As one of 
whom I have read, illustrating this, or 
a similar subject, he may wear a mask 
until his features assume its likeness." 

" And there are other things," said 
Carrie after a few minutes silence, 
" which have struck me so often in so- 
ciety. One of them, Katie, is the habit 
of applying the words of the Bible to 
the lighest, most frivolous subjects. — 
How painful it must be to any truly 
thoughtful mind to hear the words of 
" the high and lofty One that inhabi- 



teth eternity, whose name is Holy," of- 
fered up at the shrine of vanity and 
wit, and often perhaps thoughtlessly 
used when unprovoked by either. I 
have heard passages from the Bible 
pertaining to man's fallen nature, and 
to God's holy law, fall as lightly and care- 
lessly from the lips of wit and of beauty, 
as if they had no part, whatever, in them. 
I speak not now, Katie, of the fearful 
sin of deliberately ridiculing aught that 
pertains to God's revelation of Himself 
in the Bible — though of that I have 
heard instances among men belonging 
to the first class of society — men of 
talent and distinction — of whom I can 
only think, " tohat will ye do in the end 
thereof?"''' But I speak of the habit of 
applying the words of the Bible light- 
ly and indifferently to any subject. Not 
all professing christians, nor persons 
brought up to reverence religion are 
exempt from it. A little consideration, 
it seems to me, would show any right- 
ly judging mind the wrong there is in 
it. And were you never struck, Katie, 
b) the manner in which things awfully 
serious in their nature are treated in 
society ? Often have I heard the living, 
powerful spiritual enemy of man — the 
root of all. the sin and sorrow in the 
world from the faJl of man to the pres- 
ent time — and who still walks " to and 
fro in the eanh "haunting and tempt- 
ing the souls of men — as lightly and 
laughingly alluded to, as if he was a mere 
chimera of the fancy to frighten children 
with. And the awful truth — the most 
fearful reality that ever was suggested 
to the mind of man — that of eternal 
punishment — co-equal only in its vast, 
vast meaning to that of eternal happi- 
ness — treated as something beneath the 
regard of the refined and cultivated. — 

"That man should be more sure than 
ever man can be, that the Bible is not 
true," ere he treats aught that it reveals 
with carelessness or contempt. 

" Carrie," said Katie suddenly break- 
ing a long silence, " what is to you 
the most beautiful object in the moral 
world ?" 

" Ah, I know to what you allude, 
and will answer in Mrs. Silman's own 
words — " A conscientious young man." 
I was struck with that passage when I 
read the "Southern Matron." But how 
many think, Katie, they can succeed 
better in life if they do not pay very 
strict regard to conscience. Every 
American heart will warm at the name 
of Washington— every American ton- 
gue will sound his praise. Let them 
then adopt his favorite maxim — " In 
the economy of naiure there is an in- 
separable connexion betiveen duty and 
interest." Sir Matthew Hale says he 
'' ever found, by long and sound experi- 
ence, that a due observance of the duty 
of Sunday enjoined a blessing on the 
rest of his time : and, on the contrary, 
when he neglected the duties of that 
day, the rest of the week was unsuccess- 
ful and unhappy to his secular employ- 
ments." As Hannah More says in 
speaking of this — " The testimony of 
one lawyer will perhaps be less suspect- 
ed than that of many priests." 

" That reminds me," said Katie — 
" speaking of a lawyer, of something I 
heard a gentleman tell my father the 
other day. He said he had heard more 
than one lawyer of his acquaintance say 
that he intended to quit the practice of 
law, and the reason they assigned, was 
— " if they continued it, 'twould rain 
their morals !" 



" Cowards ! recreants !" said Carrie, 
■with a flashing eye — " to leave their 
noble profession the many more un- 
scruplous than themselves—" men that 
hire out their words and anger " — and, 
who, as Addison ssys, "allow their 
client a quantity of wrath proportiona- 
ble to the fee which they receive from 
him. 1 ' for the moral courage to con- 
tinue the practice of law and elevate it, 
instead of weakly leaving it! How 
glorious would be the task of bequeath- 
ing it to their children ennobled and 
elevated ! Arduous it is true, but would 
men shrink from it on that account? — 
Lord Coke believed that the good law- 
yer — « he who sucked from the breasts 
of that divine knowledge, honesty, 
gravity, and integrity, by the goodness 
of God obtained a greater blessing and 
ornament than any other profession to 
his family and posterity." Are those 
men who would quit the practice of 
law, because it will " ruin their morals," 
content to see such A, large number of 
young men going into it ? Can they 
stand idly by and see the young man so 
beautifully described by Mr. Davis-— 
" In nature's prime— bursting forth into 
the maturity and fulness of his powers " 
— glowing " with all the ardor and 
sanguine expectation of life — all the 
acute sensibilities of genius — all the 
quickening impulses of spiritual intelli- 
gence " — see him in the freshness and 
glory of his young life, sink year by 
year, more and more, into all they 
would avert from themselves ? Ka- 
tie ! if a woman's feeble voice could 
reach the lawyers of the land, 'twould 
pray them to be guided in the practice 
of law by the Bible alone — to remember 
in the beautiful words of a lawyer, that 

" there must be a period and an end to 
all temporal things—^* rerum— and 
end of names and dignities and what- 
soever is terrene »-« but he that doeth 
the will of God abideth forever ?" 

" And for a farewell to our juris- 
prudent, I wish unto him the gladsome 
light of jurisprudence, the lovelinesse of 
temperance, the stability of fortitude 
and the solidity of justice," said Katie 
in the beautiful words of Lord Coke.— 
" And now, Barrie, I want to ask you a 
question which has been in my mind 
ever since you called Julia Eavmond's 
name. Did you not tell me some time 
ago that she married Frank Moreton ?" 

"I did ; and thereby hangs a tale," 
Katie. Let me give you a slight sketch 
of Frank Moreton's character and life 
from the time he left College. He was 
then like a thousand other young men, 
gay, clever, agreeable, full of warm' 
kindly feelings, and noble, generous 
impulses— but without any fixed guid- 
ing principle of life. Soon after Frank 
left College, he met with Julia Ray- 
mond. He was immediately caught 
by her beauty and sprightliness, and a 
few months after married her ; married 
her, I believe, Katie, without ever think- 
ing for one moment, whether her char- 
acter, views, tastes, or disposition would 
harmonize with his own or not. They 
might, accidentally, have done so but 
it is a fearful thing to leave to chance, 
Katie, as Frank's case proves. It is, I 
believe, but one of the many incongru- 
ous matches, which spring from hasty 
inconsiderate, thoughtless marriages;' 
in which the characters, views, tastes, 
and dispositions of the husband and 
wife are so utterly dissonant, that there 
can scarcely be a point of sympathy or 



congeniality between them. I know 
that when this is the case, it is the du- 
ty of the wife to endeavor to adapt her- 
self to her husband, in all that does not 
conflict with that only standard of right 
— the Bible. But Julia's love for Frank 
merely born of a susceptible fancy for 
the first handsome, agreeable young 
man who flattered her by bis devotion, 
you may well imagine, Katie, could not 
stand many rude shocks ; and she still 
wants the principle that will keep duty 
fresh and bright, when all human mo- 
tives for its performance are withered. 
Frank Moreton, like many other men, 
Katie, seeks refuge from an unhappy 
home in business and society — a poor, 
poor substitute for that "love of wedded 
wife and child which makes men citi- 
zens, patriots, heroes." I think it rea- 
sonable to doubt, Katie, as a general 
thing, if the unmarried man, or he who 
is unhappily married, ever becomes all 
that he might, if his noblest aspira- 
tion and deepest feelings, had found ap- 
preciation and sympathy in the closest 
tie of life. Had Frank Moreton married 
a woman that suited him — and he 
might easily have found one, if he had 
studied himself, and the women of his 
acquaintance — all those warm, kindly 
feelings — all those noble, generous im- 
pulses would have risen and expanded ; 
as it is, they are " nipped in the bud " 
— by that blight- -an ill-assorted mar- 
riage. Poor, poor Frank! victim to 
" the first mistaken impulse of an un- 
disciplined heart ?" 

" Carrie," said Katie, her eyes fill- 
ing with tears, "it seems to me there 
is so much sorrow, and so many mis- 
takes in the world." 

" For the sorrow there is a remedy, 

you know, dearest Katie," said Carrie, 
" and for the mistakes there is a preven- 
tive. Do you not see that all the evil 
we have considered resolves itself into 
the want of the ruling, guiding princi- 
ple of religion, and all the good springs 
from the possession of that principle ? — 
What is it that strikes you so painfully 
in Edward Warner ? Want of chris- 
tian principle. Truly it has been said, 
" no principle can be depended on but 
religious principle." He who trusts in 
any other, will find in the hour of trial 
and temptation that he has " built on 
sand." What is it that has made Mr. 
Graham " a statesman without guile ?'' 
In him I see the realization of that line 
of young — " a christian is the highest 
style of man." What is it that makes 
Mr. Davis's address so beautiful? In 
his own words — " the beautiful blend- 
ing of the rational with the moral — the 
union of reason with religion — the mu- 
tual progress of mind and holiness, 
which is the true idea of intellectual 
culture." Why has genius suffered so 
deeply and so vainly? Katie! if 
there is one person on earth who needs 
religion more than another — who suf- 
fers more than all others from the want 
of it — it is the genius. Why is there 
such a want of truth in its highest sense 
in the lives of thousands — and why do 
we so often feel in society, that 

" We do live 
Amid a world of glittering falsehoods ?" 

Want of the " spirit of truth." Why 
is the thoughtful mind so often pained 
by the levity with which the word of 
God, and things awfully serious in their 
nature are treated ? Want of thought 
which only religion can give. Why is 



that most beautiful moral object — " A 
conscientious young man," so rare ?— 
Want of the principle that only makes 
men conscientious. Why do we hear 
tnat paradox — that the practice of law 
will inpure the morals ? Because men 
take not for their guide the only true 
foundation of all law. And think you, 
Katie, if Frank Moreton had been a 
thoughtful christian man, he would 
hastily and inconsiderately have married 
the first pretty, sprightly girl, who 
caught his young fancy ? I wonder that 
the words in our beautiful marriage 
ceremony — " not by any to be entered 
into unadvisedly or lightly ; but rever- 
ently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and 
in the fear of God," do not startle many 
a heart even at the altar. O untold — 
untold are the number of mistakes — 
fearful, fearful is the amount of sorrow, 
caused by the want of the ruling, guid- 
ing principle of religion in the lives of 
men !'\ 

For some minutes, Katie sat with 
downcast eyes, thinking of what Carrie 
had last said. On looking up, she was 
surprised to see the flush of feeling again 
mounting high on her friend's cheek, 
while her fixed earnest eyes, beamed 
with an intensity of expression almost 
startling to behold. 

" Dear, dear Carrie," said she, rising 
and throwing her arms around her, " do 
not think of anything that makes you 
feel so — do not — it is wrong, Carrie." 

"Katie," said Carrie, turning her 
eya3 on those of her friend, and speak- 
ing in the low, constrained voice of deep, 
excited feeling — "do you know who 
have been passing before my mind in 
the last few mimites ? The young — 
the noble — and the talented, Katie, 
Vol. HI.— 39. 

whom I have known to fall — how ut- 
terly ! from want of that right princi- 
ple. He, the beautiful, dark-eyed boy, 
with whom in my early girlhood, I 
talked, and laughed, and sung, so mer- 
rily, through many a bright summer- 
day — and now — Katie ! He sinks in- 
to a drunkard's grave. And the young 
orator ! He, of whom, in my eark en- 
thusiasm, I thought, " that mind is 
too beautiful for earth — it must look to 
heaven !" And now, Katie, the light of 
that young Orator's mind, only illu- 
mines the gambler's "hell." And he 
for the sake of what the world calls 
honor, sent the soul of a fellow creature 
to the bar of God — left the breaking- 
hearts of a wife and mother on earth 
— and commenced in his own soul the 
workings of a remorse, which unless 
washed away in the blood of Christ 
will never die. And he — Katie ! — 
this is the worst of all — the heroic man. 
the noble gentleman — kind and courte- 
ous — who passed through life " loving 
and beloved — and yet he died — died 
without faith in Christ. And there — 
there's the suicide — my friend — my 
friend, were I to tell you all the quiet 
and misery I have known, even in my 
short life, from the want of the ruling, 
guiding principle of religion, you would 
not wonder that I suffer when I think 
of it, and that I feel so deeply, and so 
much the great need of that principle." 

There was a long silence. 

" Carrie," said Katie, at length, " I 
wish you would give me a sketch of the. 
life of a young man who is guided anc 
controlled by christian principle frorr. 
youth to the grave." 

Carrie lifted her head ; she was very 
pale, but perfectly calm. 



" If we would begin at the beginning, 
dear Katie, it would be in childhood, 
when a father's and mother's care first 
leads the opening mind to prayer and 
the Bible. Some blessed with thought- 
ful christian parents have begun right 
from childhood. I know no example 
of this so perfect, so lofty, and so last- 
ing, as that of our Washington. But 
proper training through childhood and 
youth is not at our own command ; so 
I will begin with that young man just 
ere he takes his life and fortunes into 
his own hands, and goes forth into the 
world to take his place among men. 

What a period is this, Katie ! How 
high throbs that young heart, as he ex- 
claims — 

" One freeman more, America, to thee !" 

And to woman — old age — the weak 
and unprotected everywhere — his feel- 
ings are, 

"Here if a suppliant you may fly 
Secure 'mid danger, wrongs, and grief 
Of sympathy, redress, relief." 

But as he looks into the great future, 
and catches a dim view of the real 
things of life, a sudden thought strikes 
him — " These impulses — these yearn- 
ings to act a high and noble part on 
life's stage — will they last ? Will they 
go with him through the world sus- 
taining him in the hour of trial and 
temptation ?" The voice of truth and 
reason answers : " Those impulses will 
not do. Go forth into the world with 
no other safeguard, and they will be 
"as the morring cloud and as the early 
devr that passeth away." Others have 
gone forth as you are about to do, full 
of vague but high and sanguine hopes 

of becoming good and great. Years 
have passed away 'midst life's cares, 
and sorrows, and temptations, and those 
high hopes have only become a memo- 
ry, and it may be a remose. Without 
something not in yourself to guide and 
sustain you, you will pass. on your way 
— one of many, perhaps — as good as 
other men — respectable — honorable ; or 
you may become great ; be honored, 
flattered, carressed on earth, and when 
you die a monument erected to your 
memory. All this may be, young 
man, and yet your life one grand 
mistake — false in the beginning, false 
in the end. But what assurauce have 
you that you will be even respectable 
and honorable in the eyes of men ? — 
' Who are you] that you should stand 
when so many like you have utterly 
fallen ? Is there no evil in your heart ? 
Are you proof against temptation ? — 
And in twenty, forty years — sooner or 
later — what theu ? Those vigorous, lofty 
faculties — that immortal mind even 
new springing upward in consciousness 
of its endless existence — that world of 
thought and feeling within your — your' 
self — what of you then ?" O earnestly, 
and deeply, and seriously, does he think 
of these things, Katie ! not lightly and 
carelessly does he turn fr»m them. His 
whole being is aroused — life on earth — 
and life immortal — what ought it to be 
here? What will i' be there? To a 
mind thus aroused, Katie, soon comes 
the thought of God — the great First 
Cause — the beginning and the end — 
" Eternal — Immortal — Invisible." To 
learn of God is its first object ; what 
will guide him to God ? What will 
teach him of God ? What but the Bi- 
ble ? The Bible reveals God — Creator, 



Redeemer, Sanctifyer. He looks with- 
in himself, a world — a wonder. He 
looks on his brother-man — a world — a 
wonder also, yet how unlike himself. — 
He looks on this beautiful and glorious 
world; he thinks of the unnumbered 
worlds which the light of science has 
revealed to his dazzled vision — and sees 
his Creator. He thinks of the perfect 
law of God — looks into his own heart 
— and acknowledges the need of a Re- 
deemer. He thinks of the Spirit that 
acts on the soul of man, enlighten- 
ing, purifying, guiding, sustaining — is 
not that what he wants? A mighty, 
all -sustaining power to go with him 
through life, and at last to lead him 
to that "kingdom prepared for us 
in which every aspiration of the mind 
shall be realized — every throb of ex- 
pected glory find its exaltation, and 
every holy hope its consummation and 
its bliss." His reason is convinced ; he 
sees — he feels what ne wants. What 
then is he to do ? The answer is sim- 
ple, yet all is contained in it — " Take 
the Bible as your guide through life — 
and pray to God, through Christ, for 
the direction of His Holy Spirit." His 
reason already convinced, what remains 
but an earnest resolve, by the help of 
God, so to do. And the more he reads 
the Bible and prays, Katie, the more 
he sees, and feels that lie has found all 
he wants. And now in the strength of 
a christian, our young, true hero goes 
forth into the world. He knows that 
no "primrose path of dalliance" is be- 
fore him — that his enemies are " the 
•world, the flesh, and the devil " — that 
he has need to put on all the "armor 
of God," that he may be able to "fight 
a good fight." And yours will be a 

victorj, young conqueror, by which all 
of earth's victories sink into nought. — 
•'They did it for a corruptible crown — 
you an incorruptible" — your laurels 
will be fadeless and immortal ! fhe 
crown that will rest on your brow is 
that of eternal life ! 

Katie, our hero has begun right; let 
us see him through life. Well does he 
consider to what duty and nature point 
him, ere he chooses his occupation for 
life. Does he go foith in that highest 
of all professions — the ministry of 
Christ ? Does he become the patriot, 
christian statesman ? Does he choose 
" the noble and ennobling profession of 
law, when the noble spirits practice it?" 
Does he become, as Dr. Dunglison 
beautifully quotes, the " beloved physi- 
cian ?" In the high office of teacher, 
does he rear a christian, patriot baud 
for God and his country ? Or in the 
commercial, agricultural, or mechanical 
pursuits of life does he find an employ- 
ment? Whatever that young man 
does, Katie, whatever station he fills he 
will adorn and elevate. Talents, ener- 
gies, life, rightly controlled and direct- 
ed, he is " true to himself, and it fol- 
lows as the night the day he cannot be 
false to any man." And well does that 
young man consider ere he marries, 
Katie ; well does he know himself and 
her to whom he entrusts so much of 
his happiness. In the companionship 
of a woman in whose heart arid mind 
he finds all the sympathy and conge- 
niality of his own wants, and whose 
principle of life coincides with his own, 
his taleuts and virtues rapidly shoot 

And though the duties of his profes- 
sion should leave less time than h« 



wishes, to devote to the education and 
training of his children no fear does 
that husband and father feel, for he 
knows he has married a woman, whose 
every feeling of heart, and loftiest im- 
pulse of mind ; and highest christian 
principle, will make her regard her du- 
ties to her children only nexfr those to 
her husband — and they only next the 
fear of God. Thus his " sons will grow 
up as the young plants, and his daugh- 
ters be as the polished corners of the 
temple." And mark him, Katie, in the 
trials and sorrows that come to all 
earth's children. The world looks on 
in surprise as he stands unmoved 
amidst the fiercest raging of the " storms 
of life," calmly looking upward. lie 
sees a light they " cannot see " — he 
" hears a voice they cannot hear," cheer- 
ing and sustaining him. And by his 
side stands one, looking upward zvith 
him, whose smile is ever brightest when 

the sky is darkest, and whose gentle 
voice he hears above the loudest rag- 
ing of the storm, "for batter, for worse, 
for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and 
in health, 'till death us do part." 

And in the end ! " Mark the end of 
the perfect man and behold the up- 
right, for the end of that man is peace.'' 1 
Truly, " Godliness is profitable in all 
things having the promise of the life 
that now is, and that which is to come" 

And to think, Katie, that this might 
be the life and end of our young men ! 
that they might become " * race of 
Washingtons !" By beginning right 
the life I have drawn may be for each 
and all — and every one of th«m — and 
in the glories of that life which " eye 
hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
have entered into the heart of man, per- 
fect in purity, go on increasing in 
knowledge and happiness— -forever !" 





How sad it is to part with those we 
love, even if it is to meet again ; but, 
oh — how much more sad it is to say — 
41 Good bye," with a knowledge that it 
is for ever ! not for days, months, years, 
but — forever. Feeling that life will 

have its changes, that the summer will 
pass, and its flowers will wither and 
die, and " the place that knows them 
now shall know them no more," and 
winter will come and go, and spring 
will burst again to beauty, and summer 
flowers will bloom again — and droop, 



and die, but still we meet not. The 
heart will beat light and heavy ; the 
pulse will thrill sweetly to joy, or sad- 
ly to sorrow ; the sunlight and the 
shade shall fall alternately on our path- 
way, and hope and despair brighten 
and darken, daylight shall waken all to 
life and light, and night shall sink all 
to slumber and silence, while she gilds 
the heavens with a thousand stars, as 
"spots on the wings of Providence," 
which God has unfurled over a resting 
earth, but yet it is the same, we meet 
f Good bye — good bye forever — good 
bye — how sad the word}— how many 
lips have given utterance to it, when 
the heart beneath them was almost 
bursting, when the eyelid trembled and 
a pearly tear lay glistening on the 
cheek. How many a maiden's voice 
has faltered when loving lips were press- 
ed to her own, and she knew that she 
must breathe — good bye, and that it 
might be for the last time. The mem- 
ory of that word to her is' like the 
sound of a requiem at midnight, or the 
memory of a dream of the grave. 

How sad to speak — good bye, when 
we leave our childhood's home for the 
first time, and it may be the last time, 
who knows ? Good bye, mother, "it 
may be for years, or it may be forever,!' 
but still my thoughts shall wander 
back to home and thee, and often in 
dreams I will gambol round the old 
hearth stone, as I did of yoie, and the 
memory of it will be like the memory 
of dreams of heaven, when the soul 
awaketh. Long years may glide down 

the silent stream of time ere we meet 
again, the shadows of ca>'e may steal 
upon the heart and brush from it these 
memories of childhood which lie there 
aa lightly as the gold dust on the but- 
terfly's wing ; but there is one string 
which nothing but the hand of death 
can still, a string on which time's foot- 
steps as he hastes away awakes a strain 
of joy, whose echo lingering thrill 
through all the soul — it is the memory 
of a mother's love which dieth never. 
Though I may bid thee good bye — 
mother, when the spring bud of my life 
is bathed in the first dew, and meet 
thee not until life's vesper bell shall toll 
but faintly, yet thy memory shall linger 
round my soul like the fragrance of 
dewy flowers. 

Good bye, reader, we have not met 
on earth, we may not meet, but by and 
by the time will come when the old 
sexton will gently turn up the green 
grass in the village churchyard, and as 
the bell toll lingers dreamily on the 
evening air, you, er perhaps I, will sink 
cold and still in the lowly grave. It 
may be you first, or it may be I, but 
t'jat matters but little, for it may be be- 
fore the leaves grow yellow and fall — 
before the winds grow chill, or the grass 
wither that the old sexton will agaiu 
turn up the fresh earth, and the bell 
will toll as softly and as sadly as before, 
a little procession will wind slowly 
around the white path, or tread softly 
over the green graves, another one of 
us will be cold and still too, and the last 
good bye will live alone in memory. 





" You'd scarce expect one of my age 
To speak in public on the stage," 
Don't view me with a critic's eye, 
But pass my imperfections by ; 
Tall oaks from little acorns grow ; 
Large streams from little fountains flow." 

We believe it is generally known that 
this is the first number issued by the pres- 
ent corps. 'Tis our first effort. We come 
before you almost as infan s in the literary 
world. We neither claim to equal the phil- 
osophy of Bacon, nor the oratory of Cic- 
ero. All that we promise is to do the 
best we can. 

Would you? Could you ask more? — 
Then, kind reader, allow us here to ask 
you to look upon us, and our honest ef- 
forts in such a light as we hold forth. — 
Yet do not in your great generosity and 
superior wisdom, think there is nothing 
good in our Magazine; that in it there is 
nothing worth reading ; for that would be 
too kind to us, and not only that, but you 
would do yourself great injustice', you 
would deceive yourself, whoever you be. 
Although the moral quality of the action 
might be right, the action itself wouM be 
wrong, and for us, we ask you to do noth- 
ing wrong. Yes, we promise to tell you 
something you do not know, and which in 
all probability you never would have 
known were it not for our Magazine. 

Although this is edited by boys, we can 
assure our friends that articles appear in 
its columns from the pens of our ablest 
writers, literary men, who rank high in the 
intellectual world, men to whom our State 
furnishes no superior. Then why should 

not our Magazine be both interesting and 
highly instructive. Occasionally we hear 
some mighty genius blazing forth upon 
this ignorant age bis original simplicity. 
Sinking our Magazine to the fathomless 
depths. Says he, "The Magazine is 
worth nothing. I will not spend my time 
reading over its pages of disgusting fool- 
ishness, and abstract nonsense ; if it ever 
contained any thing, I did not already 
know. I would gladly see it flourish, for 
certainly it is an undertaking which should 
merit the encouragement of every true 
North Carolinian." Good, say we, to his 
last sentiment. Sureiy he heard some one 
smarter than himself express that idea, 
" good for nothing," is it? Bah ! Where 
did you, spring from mighty one among 
the small fry ? Where did you get your 
learning? Whence that bright intellect? 
Are you not afraid, when you touch the 
world off, you'll get slightly scorched 
yourself? Oh, no! we guess the fire 
would never reach you — such a bright — 
such a transcending genius as you, would 
take a sapling, until all but you and said 
sapling had fallen to ashes, at the ap- 
proach of the mighty conflagration of self- 
lighted intellect ; then with one mighty 
leap, .try to land on the other side of Jor- 
dan. But, friend I tell you, if we have 
been correctly informed, that Jordan is a 
hard road to travel, and especially for 
numskulls; so as friends to suffering hu- 
manity, we advise you not to try. We 
expect to cause no revolution in the liter- 
ary world, nor do we pretend that by our 
revolvancy to keep the literary world in 
motion, nor do we promise to interest 



you, Mr. Know-every-thing. What a 
blessing it is that some folks are born 
knowing all things, otherwise there would 
be a mighty crowd of "Know-Nothings." 

And in fact we are constrained to be- 
lieve that these "Messrs. Know-all- 
things " are emphatically the " Know- 
Nothings." For instance, not long since, 
w heard one of these bright self-consu- 
mers make a thrust at our poor insignifi- 
cant columns. For a moment we stood 
m trembling awe — we thought our time 
had come — ve thought our bright dreams 
were smashed forever, till we found the 
attack a feeble one, by asking this " hairy 
lipped weather cock " to be so kind as to 
point out the poorest article in a certain 
number of our Magazine, when, with an 
air of self-importance, find gesture of de- 
molishing genius, he slapped his inspired 
finger (or as we would lerm it, ''liquor 
hook,") on a piece written by one of the 
ablest men in the State ; so according to 
that mighty juclore, our M;igazine must be 
first rate, that being the poorest article, 
the others must have been excellent. But 
his judgement is worth nothing. Now, 
Mr. Block of Wisdom, allow us to say in 
all kindness, and with the greatest respect 
for your ball-frog feelings, that we do not 
expect or desire to please you. We hope 
our Magazine is of a higher order. 'Tis 
true that with the fool, folly is wisdom, 
and wisdom is folly. Although we would 
like to converse with you a little longer, 
oh son of dazzlingintellectual powers, time 
will not allow us, so hoping to have a chat 
with you in our next, we bid you good 

Having spent too much time in answer- 
ing the objections of our weak brethren, 
we return to say one more word to men 
of sense and reason, and the generous 

Truly grateful are we to all those who 
favored our predecessors with their names, 
and spoke a kind word for the magazine. 
We feel confident that there are many, 

who, though unknown to us, are, never- 
theless friends to our charge. Gladly 
would we greet all our friends face to 
face, but that being impossible we can do 
no more than return to them our heartfelt 
thanks, hoping they will not desert us in 
our infancy. It may be, and doubtless 
often is asked what is the object of the 
Magazine. Should the affair realise any 
profits, what disposal would be made of 
them, would not the Editors pocket all 
the profits. No friend — listen, and we 
will inform you as to that fact. Our first 
object is to raise the standard of College 
Composition. To open a road along 
which talent and exertion may wend its 
way to eminence and distinction. After 
our publisher has been paid, and all other 
necessary expenditures made, the sur- 
plus is to be divided between the two 
literary societies, to be laid out in the 
purchase of books, which books are for 
the use of the present students and those 
to come after us. Our two libraries at 
present each contain nearly-five thousand 
volumes. Will not the students father, 
mother, brother and sister, or even you 
young man expect soon to take up your 
abode here for several years aid us in in- 
creasing each library to ten thousand vol- 
umes. Will the public see us fall ? Will 
they see us struggle in vain? Will the 
Alumni not lend a generous heart and a 
helping hand ? Come, will you not join 
us? Give us your names. Is our under- 
taking worthy of encouragement, or not ? 
Ought it to be sustained, or left to die 
that horrible death, that of famine? We 
hear your answer, it is encouraging. You 
say, let her climb the highest pinnacle of 
North Carolina's fame, and there entwine 
itself as the richest wreath of her glory. — 
Then friend Alumnus, send us your name, 
and we will thank you, while your con- 
science smiles upon the act. 



To oxjr Subscriber s — Generous 
Fkiskds. — Doubtless in the last week the 
question has been asked oftener than once, 
,s where is the University Magazine ?" — 
When will it make its appearance? and 
why this delay, why keep us wait ng so 
long? What ! ever since the first of June 
to the second week in August issuing one 
number ! What can the cause be % Why 
do those lazy fellows luxuriate so long in 
their sanctum ? Now for these questions 
we do not censure you, they are natural 
ones, and questions which all our sub- 
scribers have a right to ask us, and cer- 
tainly we will not refuse to answer them. 

We think our excuse good, 'tis short — 
hear it. It is well known that the June out only a day or two before com- 
mencement, and every thing on the Hill 
about that time is enjoying itself to such 
a degree ; or down so low with that 
dreadful disease — the blues, that it is im- 
possible for any one to do any thing in 
the way of reading or writing. Every 
body, and every thing seems to be. derang- 
ed from Monday evening until Friday 
morning; and who could help from being 
thus confused when there are so many of 
the fair sex darting here and there and 
every where. You must recollect that 
most of us have to staj here the whole 
session without speaking to a lady ; now 
can you centure us for being excited, 
when so many dash before us all in one 
day ? Then, when Friday morning come?, 
every student who is so unfortunate as to 
have his Du-Larkie here is dancing around 
her like a calf in a yellow-jacket's nest; 
he feels the nicest kind, all to pieces in a 
minute, all the while thinking what he 
shall say next; and if through accident 
he should in his excitement blunder over 
one of the rules of etiquette, would any 
one notice it, and then that blamed jealous 
rival watches his every action, and as he 
imagines (and we dare say he is right,) 
is listening' to tvery word he says to his 
choice flower. Now as every Editor, ex- 

cept one, was just about in such a predic- 
ament, all commencement week, of course 
there was no time to devote to the Maga- 
zine. 'Tis true, there are some students, 
(and that class are truly fortunate.) who 
are not troubled with the feminine live 
stock during this week; yet they general- 
ly have other friends to whom all atten- 
tion is due. So in every case there is 
no time for business ; the fact is, we are 
just as busy as a bee in a tar barrel. But 
suppose, we were to remain here a few 
days after commencement to make up the 
August number ; would it not be impo- 
litic, would it not be wrong ; nay, would 
it not be acting with gross injustice, not 
only to our contributors, but to ourselves. 
For by such a course we might lose ma- 
ny of July's warm and able productions. 
Now, friend, will you not say — " so far, so 
good?" Now since we have given you a 
satisfactory excuse for the nonappearance 
of the Magazine ; until the first of August, 
we feel sure you will pardon us for its 
longer retirement. At the close of last 
session when we separated for our homes, 
all necessary arrangements were made to 
have the August number before the pub- 
lic on the first day of the month ; that 
was an object we were very anxious to ef- 
fect, and certainly expected; but in both 
instances we were disappointed by a de- 
cree of Providence. It was domestic sor- 
rows that prevented the_ early return of 
chat member of our corps, who had an im- 
portant part to perform in the .issuing of 
tins number. Now say, do you not par- 
don us? Justice answers for you. 

Soon the excitement which necessarily 
attends the beginning of every session 
will be over; soon the shaking of hands 
will cease for months; soon the four 
standing questions for the beginning of 
every session— Howd'y do, how did you 
spend your vacation, when did you re- 
turn, and how did you leave her? Will 
have been answered often enough to satis- 
fy all hands on that point for six months 



to come. Then iu that first calm we will 
try to fit our flying Togas. I tell you, 
friend, they are the worst twisted up af- 
fairs about this time you ever saw. But 
for the future we promise to he at our 
post, Providence decreeing. At the first 
of each month we will give you a call, and if 
some of you don't send us your respects, 
with that little you owe us, we will give 
you a call every few days. Now if we 
fulfil' our promise, as to issuing the Mag- 
azine, of course you will hand over that 
little change, without having us to say 
anything about it. In fact we do not 
want to dun you. And here we close our 
remarks to you, promising to say nothing 
of this little matter, either in this, or the 
next number. If you'll just hand over 
that little change by the first of Septem- 

Fellow-Students. — Again have Col- 
lege duties called us from our happy 
homes to bow at the alter of learning. — 
After six weeks of dissipation, do you 
feel refreshed; do you come with minds 
bright, and hopes high ? With what joy 
and promise of pleasure is vacation looked 
forward to? How the heart of every stu- 
dent is made to swell at the sound of that 
word vacation, and well it should. It bids 
him come home and join the domestic 
circle, there to answer the many kind 
questions, as to his comfort and happiness 
while absent; there to listen to the kind 
and affectionate advice of his dear parents, 
while his rosy little brothers and sisters 
fondle upon his knee. Then why should 
not every one start at the word — vacation. 
"Whatever of happiness it afforded you is 
now over; whether it has been spent as 
you rnticipated; whether during those 
six weeks you realized all those bright 
promises of pleasure, it is for you to say. 
Has it by its gorgeous fancies and bright 
dreams stirred and enlivened your soul 
into new life, or has it sickened it, by un- 
veiling to its view stern and painful reali- 

ties. Dear friend, was it your lot during 
those six weeks to see the eyes of some 
dear friend closed in death; to stand by 
the grave just opening to receive one of 
your dearest relatives ; or did the fftneral 
sermon call you to the fresh, yet sad 
tomb of a dear and aged ancestor, if so, 
then we know your heart. Yes we can 
sympathise with you. But while you 
stood by those fresh mounds, did you 
think that soon the grave would open to 
receive you? Did you think J hat soon 
your vacation would be over, which would 
cut off six weeks from your now half ad- 
vanced life? That then you would be 
six weeks nearer eternity? During your 
vacation, did you bestow one moment of 
thought on that all important point. If 
not, turn now and give it due attentiom 
soon it may be too late, yes, too late for 
ever. Defer this duty which you owe to 
yourself and your Maker no longer. Soon 
it will be a tale that is told, finished, and 

To the New Students. Young 

Fkiends. — Gladly we welcome you to our 
shrine of learning. With you this is a 
new era ; another age is indeed opened 
upon you. You are now members of 
College. You are now one of a small 
world over which you may cast your 
eye at pleasure. What joys are con- 
nected with college life ? Yet, amid these 
joys, what trials, anxieties, and pains? — 
Though it seems that you came here 
alone, yet with you came many tender 
and anxious hearts. With you, thought- 
less boy, came thy father's proud spirit » 
along your path, lingers almost in wither- 
ing anxiety, the soft and tinder heart of 
your affectionate mother. Yes, with you 
is that same devoted heart, which ■ irst 
sent gushing through your tender little 
veins its own warm blood ; that same bo- 
som which nourished you, which first 
heaved with joy for your existence upon 
which your young head pillowed, in the 



first sweet and beautiful sleep of infancy, 
still throbs with a mother's anxiety. See 
how quick and joyous it beats at every 
worthy and noble action of its offspring. 
'Tis pleasure, 'tis comfort to the mother's 
heart. Yet how soon could you change 
that light and happy heart to one of mel- 
ancholy and sadness. One misguided 
step, one rash act, may change it all. — 
Think not that you left behind the soft 
spirit of that devoted and beloved sister, 
just budding into womanhood. All the 
day does it linger by your side as the in- 
nocent dove by its mate. With yours 
does it seem to be bound by a link of 
steel. With you this is the most impor- 
tant point of life. You are now to take 
a stand among your fellow students, mo- 
rally and intellectually. Recollect that 
you are now to form a character, which is 
almost certain to cleave to you through 
life, and on every side is there some one 
to find fault with every action. Hence 
the great importance of forming such a 
one as may send new happiness to your 
frame. Upon this character depends your 
own happiness and prosperity ; upon this 
depend a father's pride, a mother's joy, 
and a sister's heart. Would you then 
queil that father's proud spirit; would 
you crush a mother's heart with remorse 
and despair, would you bedim the rich 
lustre of that sister's dark eye, now beam- 
ing with hope for a brother's future great- 
ness? No ! forbid it, ye powers above. — 
Then, young man, if you would fill all 
those hearts with joy, form that character 
which will command the respect of all at 
all times. 'Tis early to form such an one, if 
you commence aright. Do nothing which 
you would not be willing for father, moth- 
er, and sister to know. Let your con- 
fidence dictate. Let the whole world 
know your deed, if it be necessary. It 
may be that you are an orphan, and one 
who lias seen the damp grave close over 
your last dear brother and sister. If that 
be your condition, of how much greater 

importance is your welfare to all. True, 
there is no heart upon earth to throb with 
the affection of a father, mother, brother, 
or sister. Yet their spirits may be hov- 
ering over you with all earthly anxiety, 
and would you call from the dark shad- 
ows of the grave their mouldering ashes 
to mourn over the degradation of a disso- 
lute son, if not, then let all your notions 
be pure, and your actions noble. Take 
justice, industry, and virtue, for your mot- 
to, and the victory is won. 

What a variety of human nature do you 
see in college. Here goes the man of a 
high moral sense, he who takes virtue and 
integrity as his watchword, he who con- 
descends to nothing mean, vulgar or low, 
but scorns every base and corrupt action, 
while there, as it were, side by side stalks 
the student of low and vulgar habits, of 
a dark heart, filthy tongue, a corrupted 
and corroded imagination, a seared and 
degraded conscience. Perhaps the latter 
is a college genius, very smart, but what 
is all this worth without a sufficient de- 
gree of moral courage, and a high moral 
character to guide aright. Misdirected 
genius is a worm that gnaws out its own 
vitality. Possibly the same degraded ge- 
nius will seek your company, and mani- 
fest strong friendship; but in whatever 
form he comes, shun him as you would 
the hissing adder's fang. He will lead 
you to the alter of infamy. Yes, shun 
the grog, the card table, black-gaurd and 
profanity. Read and keep ever fresh in 
your mind these four beautiful lines which 
were once handed me by a stranger. 

Maintain your mark, vulgarity despise ; 
To swear is neither brave, polite, nor wise, 
You would not swear upon the bed of death, 
Reflect, your maker now may stop your breath. 

Can you forget them ? I think not. 

Our. Exchanges. — Heretofore our Pub- 
lisher has been instructed to send a copy 
of the Magazine to every paper and pe- 



r iodkal published in the State, besides to 
various others beyond our borders who 
have solicited an exchange ; but some 
have not thought proper in their wisdom 
to respond at all ; or, if so, very irregular- 
ly. Otners more true to the interest of 
North Carolina literature have sent us 
their sheets and favorably noticed our ef- 
forts. To the latter we feel grateful and 
hope to merit a continuance of their kind- 
ness. As for the former we can only ex- 
press the regret that the Magazine has 
failed to woo successfully their maiden 
weeklies; and, as the age of seven years 
bondage for such prizes has passed, we 
shall make our genuflections at other 

Any Editor, however, who may wish to 
exchange for the future, and will make 
the same known to us, shall receive the 
greeting due a brother quilsman, and his 
paper shall be regularly filed in our read- 
ing room ; but we have no idea of continu- 
ing as formerly our visits to those who 
welcume us not. 

Some excellent exchanges have been 
recently added to our list. The Charles- 
ton Collegiate Magazine, and the Erskine 
Collegiate Recordei,'' are worthy the libe- 
ral patronage they receive. The Concord 

Gazette and Milton have been 

received and filed. Our old friends Yale Lit. 
Magazine, Southhern Repostory, Georgia 
Union Magazine and West. Dem. Review, 
have visited us in due season. 

Commencement. — After so long an in- 
terval we cannot be expected to interest 
any one with our account of commence- 
ment. The inspiration of the scene is al- 
most vanished in the anticipation of ano- 
ther. Even the smiles of beauty cannot 
last always, and when they depart, life, 
commencement,any thing, become, prosaic. 

On Monday niyht the exercises began. 
The Rev. Mr. Lowe delivered the Valedic- 
tory Sermon before the graduating class. 
His theme — "Remember now thy Crea- 

tor in the days of thy youth," Eccl. 12 
eh., 1st, was appropriate, well treated, and 
delivered with that eloquence which 
charms all who hear. On Tuesday night 
the Fresh Competitors delivered them- 
selves of the best declamations we ever 
had the pleasure of listening to. Their 
souls seemed to have been fired with the 
subjects, self was forgotten, and they 
came off all victorious. They were de- 
cidedly the heroes of the night, and many 
a fair face smiled complacently on the 
youthful orators. 

Wednesday morning, Ex-Gov. Brown, 
of Tennessee delivered the address before 
the two literary Societies. His subject 
was— The United States— Its progress 
and improvement in Government — In ter- 
ritory — In its Industrial Employments — 
Its Scientific and professional pursuit's, — 
It requires no eulogy from us. It was 
well and learnedly discussed, admirably 
delivered, and created quite a favorable 
impression among the numerous listeners. 
The opening remarks especially attracted 
our attention. They were beautiful and 
affecting. On the whole we have seldom 
listened to an abler discourse 

In the evening the Declaimers from the 
Sophamore Class entertained a large and 
deli-hted audience. They also acted their 
parts well, and for a time we feared that 
our Favorites' glory should be eclipsed; 
but our fears were soon vanished for the 
Ladies declared that all had performed 
their parts to perfection. 

Thursday, the day of days was devoted 
exclusively to the performances of the 
Graduating Class, conferring degrees, &c. 
We have not in our power to speak of 
them individually, except to say thai each 
individual acquited himself well. The 
Salutatory was admirably delivered ; Vale- 
dictory was the best we ever heard. The 
Greek, and the French orations were very 
good so far as we are able to judge. 

The exercises on the part of the young 
men were as follows :- 



Latin Salutatory — William Badham, Jr., 

A greeting to all our friends — John Duncan 
Shaw, Richmond County. 

Science in the Bible— William Heney Spen- 
cer, Hyde County. 

Young America — John Marion Gallaway, 
Sockinghaiii County. 

Why love the Turk and hate the Russian ? — 
Enoch Jaspek Vann, Florida. 

The scale of Being — Samuel Spenceb Jack- 
son, Jr., Pittsboro 1 . 

Distribution of the Bible — Theodore Whit- 
field, Mississippi. 

The Future — Joseph Hill Weight, Wil- 

Denominational Education — Leonidas John 
Meeritt, Chailiam County. 

Growth of English Liberty— Oscar Ripley 
Rand, Wake County. 

The Farming interest in North Carolina— 
Robert Bruce Johnston, Waynesville. 

French Oration— Lafayette— William Rob- 
aeds Wetmore, Fayetteville. 

Greek Oration — 'To Prepon.' — John Wil- 
liams Graves, Casivell County. 

Practical benefits conferred by Astronomy— 
Richard Henry Battle, Chapel Hill. 

Legislative aid to the University— William 
Lee Alexander, McDowell County. 

Where are we ?— Joseph Adolphus Engel- 
hard, Jackson, Mississippi. 

The Valedictory— William Lafayette Scott, 
Guilford C'oc/i/y. 

The following are the names of the 
Graduating Class. They are sixty in num- 

W. L. Alexander, Julius F. Allison, John B. 
Andrews, Wm. Badham, Jr., Richard H. Bat- 
tle, Jr., Joseph M. Bell, Edward Bradford, Jr., 
Richard Bradford, Daniel J. Brook?, John H. 
M. Bullock, Wm. H. Bunn, John S. Chambers, 
John P. Cobb, Needhain B. Cobb, Hayne E. 
Davis, Thomas C. Dennis, Joseph A. Engehard, 
E. Livingston Faison, Jno. M. Gallaway, Albert 
K. Graham, J. W. Graves, John G. B. Grimes, 
J. H. Hill, Delano W. Husted, Sam. S. Jackson, 
Jr., James W. Jacobs, Robert B. Johnston, 
Joseph P. Jones, Wm. L. Lcdbetter, Ivey F. 
Lewis, W. S. Long, John C. McKethau, Leoni- 
das J.Merrit, J. A. Montgomery, Jas. C. Moore, 
Jas. M. Morrison, J. Neal, W. C. Nichols, Theo- 
philus Perry, Charles W. Phifer, Oscar R. 
Rand, David G. Robeson, John K. Ruffin, John 

W. Sandford, Jr., Richard B. Saunders, Wm. 
L. Saunders, Rufus Scott, Wm. L. Scott, John 
D. Shaw, Robert M. Sloan, Jr., Wm. H. Spen- 
cer, William Thompson, Wm. H. Thomson, 
Enoch J. Vann, Joshua C. Walker, Wm. R. 
Wetmore, Bryan Whitfield, Theodore Whit- 
field, James A. Wright, Joseph H. Wright. 

The First distinction was assigned to 
Messrs. Alexander, Badham, Battle, Graves, 
Jackson, W. L. Scott and Wetmore. 

The Second to Messrs. Bullock, Galla- 
way, Johnston, i-ong, Merritt, Rand, Rob- 
eson, Ruffin, Vann and J. H. Wright. 

The Third, to Messrs. R. Bradford, En- 
gelhard, Morrison, W. L. Saunders, Shaw, 
Sp.ncer, Whitfield and T. Whitfield. 

The delivery of the Valedictory Ora- 
tion devolved upon Mr. Scott, the Latin 
Salutatory upon Mr. Badham, the Greek 
Oration upon Mr. Graves, and the speech 
in French upon Mr. Wetmore. 

Four members of this class, viz : Messrs. 
Andrews, Battle, Graves and W. L. Scott, 
have been absent from no college duty 
during the complete term of four years. 

Mr. Bullock entered Sophomore, and 
was never absent during three years; Mr. 
Vann entered Sophomore, was once ab- 
sent from morning prayers during that 
year, and never absent during the two 
succeeding years ; ^ir. Merritt was absent 
four times from prayers during the Fresh- 
man, and the same number during the 
Sophomore year, half < f these by permis- 
sion, and was never absent from any duty 
during the Junior and Senior years. 

Messrs. Nichols and Wetmore entered 
Junior, and were perfectly punctual du- 
ring their two years in college. 

Mr. Badham was never absent; and Mr. 
Ruffin, whose previous punctuality was 
exemplary, but once from prayers and di- 
vine worship, and from no other during 
the Senior year. 

Messrs. B. Whitfield, Montgomery and 
Spencer were rarely, and the two formers 
never voluntarily absent, during their con- 
nexion with the institution. Mr. Alexan- 



der eight times from prayers during the 
Senior year. 

The next most punctual were Messrs. 
R. Bradford, Bunn, Chambers, Davis, Gal- 
laway, Johnston, Ledbetter, Long, Perry, 
Ran , Robeson, and R. Scott. Of these, 
Mr. Perry was rarely absent from prayers 
and never voluntarily absent from any 
duty during the Senior year. 

In the Junior Class, the First distinc- 
tion is assigned to Messrs. Colton, E. W. 
Gilliam and Puttick. 

The Second, to Messrs. Davis, Hall, 
Hyman, Irion, McDugald and D. E. Mc- 

The Third, to Messrs. Betts, Campbell, 
Gaines, Gatling, Glover, Graham, Lewis, 
Mclver, Plummer, Whitaker and Whit- 

Mr. Pillow is entitled to the First dis- 
tinction in Rhetoric, History and French; 
Mr. Nicholson, to the first in Rhetoric and 
French, and the Second in History. 

Mr. Turner is entitled to the First dis- 
tinction in Mathematics, and to the Third 
in the other departments. 

Messrs. Brearly, Spruill, and Yellowly 
are entitled to the first distinction in Com- 

This class consists of fifty-four regular 
members. Of these, five have been ab- 
sent from no duty during the three years 
that they have been connected with the 
institution. These are Messrs. Hall, Ho- 
gan, Puttick, Slade, and Whitfield. A 
sixth, Mr. Lewis, was absent during the 
Freshman year, on account of severe ill- 
ness, but has been perfectly punctual du- 
ring the Sophomore and Junior years. 

Mr. Boyden entered Freshman half ad- 
vanced and has been punctual during two 
and a half years. 

Messrs. Colton, Davis, Hadley, James, 
and McNeill entered Sophomore, and have 
been absent from no duty in two years. — 
Mr. Turner entered at the same time, was 
punctual during the Sophomore year, was 
absent rarely and never voluntarily during 
the Junior year. 

Messrs. Betts, J. B. Gilliam, Whitaker, 
and Yellowly have been rarely absent du- 
ring their collegiate course when it was 
in their power to attend. 

Mr. D. E. McNair was absent three 
times from prayers, and Mr. B. Smith five 
times from prayers, five from recitation, 
and once from divine worship, oil account 
of sickness, during the Junior year. 

The next most punctual have been 
Messrs. Brearly, Campbell, Glover, Gra- 
ham, Green, Hyman, Irion, McDugald, 
Mclver, R. McNair, Montgomery, Nichol- 
son, Patterson, Pillow, J. W. Smith, Spru- 
ill, Thomas and Wharton. 

In the Sophamore Class, the First Dis- 
tinction is assigned to Messrs. Bingham, 
Lawrence, Robins, Sessions and White. 

Mr. Killebrew is entitled to the First 
distinction in every department, with the 
exception of that of Greek ; and Mr. Slade 
in every department, with the exception 
of that of mathematics. 

The Second distinction is assigned to 
Messrs. Alderman, Bryan, Hines, John- 
ston, Merritt, Morrow, Stevenson and 

The Third, to Messrs. Burney, Caldwill, 
Clark and Springs. 

The next best scholars are Messrs. Doss, 
Drake, Hilliard and Dunn. 

Mr. W. B. Bruce is entitled to First dis- 
tinction in Mathematics and French ; Mr. 
J. Bruce to First in French, and Mr. Yar- 
borough to First in Mathematics, and to 
the third in the other department. 

Of the fifty-two members, five have 
been absent from no duty during ths 
Freshman and Sophamors years, viz : — 
Messrs. Hines, Merritt, Rudisill, £>lade and 
Waddill. Two others, Messrs. Crump 
and Hilliard, were not absent during the 
Freshman, and have not been absent during 
the present year except when confined by 

Messrs. Clark, Green, McNair, Morgan, 
Munn, Windham and Yarborough, have 
been absent from no duty, and Mr. J. 



Bruce never absent from prayers or reci- 
tation during the present year. Messrs. 
Johnson and Robins were twice absent on 
account of sickness; Mr. Doss twice ; Mr. 
Williams three times; and Mr. Sumner 
five times during the last session; the 
three have been entirely punctual during 
the present session. Messrs. Lawrence 
and McLanchlin have not been absent 
during the year when able to attend. 

Messrs. Alderman and Killebrew enter- 
ed the Class at the beginning of the pre- 
sent term, the former was twice absent, 
the latter has been entirely punctual. 

The deportment of this class in the re- 
citation room has been exemplary, and, as 
is usual in such cases, the scholarship cor- 
responds to it. 

In the Freshman Class, the First dis- 
tinction is assigned to Messrs. Avery, 
Bingham, Closs, Grady, and Tillinghast. 

The Second, to Messrs. Coble, Dugger, 
J. W. Graham, Gregory, Green, Ham- 
mond, Hayley, Jones, Jordan, McLanch- 
lin, Perkins, Thompson, and Whaston. 

The Third, to Messrs. Davis, Mitchell, 
Mullins, Smith, G. Whitfield, Williams, 
Wilkinson, Wimberly, Wilson and Ward. 

Mr. D. McL. Graham is entitled to the 
First distinction in Mathematics. 

Of the seventy-six members of this 
Class, fourteen have been absent from 
no College duty during the Freshman 
year. These are Messrs. J. Anthony, 
Avery, Cable, Dugger, Grady, La wing, 
Lewis, Mitchell, ? orment, G. Whitfield, 
N. B. Whitfield, (of N. C.,) N. B. Whit- 
field, (of Ala.) H. Williams and Wimber- 

The decree of Master of Arts, in regu 
lar course, is conferred upon Bobert A 
Holmes, Joseph B. Lucas, J. J. Iredell, 
James L. Mosely, Fiances E. Shober, Jas, 
J. Slnde, and John Thomas Wheate, Jr. 

The Honorary Degree of L. L. D., is 
confined upon John Randolph Clay, En- 
voy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipo- 
tentiary to Peru. 

At nine o'clock, might be seen a joyous 
train marching up to the Assembly rooms; 
a burst of music hailed them from the Or- 
chestra; and now the lovers of Terpsi- 
chore range themselves around. Oh! 
that we had Byron to celebrate their de- 
votions at her shrine. We know not the 
technical names for the various moods of 
the "graceful art." But we doubt not that 
each part was acted to perfection. A lit- 
tle world of beauties were there ; and it 
was a great world of beauty. From North, 
South, East and West, it flowed in upon 
our enraptured vision. Wg forgot Col- 
lege, our dignity — every thing — we were 
enchanted — entranced. Even now we are 
dangerously affected with the recollection, 
and we feel decidedly poetical. Now they 
proceed to the supper room, where all the 
good things we ever heard of, or saw, in- 
vited them to come. Miss Nancy might 
well vie on this interesting occasion with 
the bright eyed attendants of Sardana- 
pulus. Long may she live to spread glad- 
ness and plenty around. The curtain 
falls — put out the lights, the parting 
strain is borne on the darkness, and every 
one goes to his own home. 

To our Contributors. — Our contribu- 
tions are fewer at this time than they have 
been for some time past. We can ac- 
count for this falling off only in our class. 
There are no more Ed's to come out of 
it. Friend you do not know that; some 
or all of our seats may be vacated before 
the close of this year. Will not the fair 
portion of our State lend us a helping 
hand ; our rough natures might be soften- 
ed by their dulcet tones. May, would un- 
doubtedly feel better under their genial 
influence. " Celah " has been received, 
considered and rejected. The article is 
quite g od, but rather too statistical for a 
Magazine. Celah certainly has proven 
himself not to be a " Know-Nothing," and 
we hope he is not a " Filibuster." Let 
us hear from you again. 



" To her who will best understand it," 
was unanimously consigned to " Limbo." 
The little fellow is undoubtedly in love. 
The attempt at puns was decidedly the 
worst out — for instance — 

Yes, included in the number, 
Of those battling on life's field, 
Is my gentle dear one, 
Fighting with emollient shield. 

Did you ever hear of an emollient shield? 
Ye powers above, when shall punning 
cease from the face of the earth. 

Eve has been rejected fo. two reasons. 
First there is not a poetical idea in it, se- 
condly it has no more reference to "Eve" 
than to morn. Try something at "Dewy 
eve " more congenial to your powers. 

Commencement at Harvard College. 
We copy the following from the National 
Intelligencer : 

" Wednesday the 19th July was Commence- 
ment at Harvard College, being the 212th anni. 
versary of that venerable Institution. The 
number of the class just entered is unprece- 
dented. Of ninety-nine candidates offered, 
eighty-eight were admitted. Hon. Edward 
Everett was re-elected President. The whole 
number in the triennial Catalogue is 8369, of 
whom are marked as deceased 4803, still living 
8566. The whole number of the Alumni is 
6612, of whom 4339 are deceased, leaving 2275 
still living. Number of Clergymen among the 
Alumni is 1518, of whom 302 are living." 

Latest Strike. — During our absence 
there was a council, or as many in their 
anger term it, a conspiracy, held by three 
Ladies, Proprietors of as many boarding 
houses. Its object was a strike for higher 
duties on the amount of food consumed. 
As the council was entirely composed of 
ladies, of course it was not to be kept se- 
cret; they are too good jugdes of woman 
nature for that. This being the fact, and 
we being personally interested in the mat 
ter, we take the responsibility of laying 
before our readers a full report of the 
matter. At 9 o'clock, A. M., a large coun- 

cil composed entirely of said three 1; dies, 
met at the bird Hotel. No. 1 was called 
to the chair, No. 2 appointed secretary ; 
after repeated loud and earnest calls. No. 
3 rose, and addressed the meeting in a few 
brief, yet able and eloquent remarks, show- 
ing the vital, and especially pecuniary im- 
portance of the meeting. The remarks 
ihroughout Were very touching. Often 
as the four dollars were mentioned, loud 
cries of— hear, hear — go — go on were to 
be heard from every quarter. No. 3 hav- 
ing concluded, the able and venerable 
chairman rose and expressed the senti- 
ments of the chair in a few pointed and 
flowery remarks, calling every moment 
for immediate action. The sentiments of 
the chair were as follows: Fellow mem- 
bers ! 'tis useless for me to add more to 
what has been so well said to this large 
and patriotic body of citizens here in coun- 
cil assembled; yet the deep interest I 
now feel, and have felt ior the last quarter 
of a century in this matter, forces me to 
say a few words in behalf of this, our 
glorious cause. Our object, as you well 
know, is to raise the price of board from 
forty-six to fifty dollars, per session. 'Tis 
not money we want, but justice ; justice 
is our motto, and that sweet angel justice 
shall be our motto so long as we can 
profit by it ; this, fellow members, is a 
free country. I am tor low duties on the 
quantity purchased, and high duties on 
quantity consumed, woman's rights, and 
all other such blessings; so we will uo as 
we please about this matter; true, we are 
told by many that this is the property of 
the State, and that the State will not let 
us charge more than forty-six dollars per 
session. In fact, some say, it is a piece 
of imposition, but let them say and do 
what they please, still we have our way 
about this place. 

I for one will advocate this high tariff 
principle, so long as yon noble bird main- 
tains its proud position. And when I 
cease to do this let its piercing eyes grow 



dim, and let it fall with ruffled wings into 
the dust. Here, No| 1 resumed the chair 
amid thunder8 of applause from a weep- 
ing audience. 

On motion of No. 3, the chair appoint- 
ed Nos. 2 and 3 to draft resolutions. Com- 
mittee retire. (No. one aside :) I now 
have 140 boarders, who pay me for ten 
months, just $12,880, of %hich I clear 
about $5,600 • n0 w if we can only force 
this thing upon the students we will clear 
$8 more on each one, which will add just 
$1,120 to my profits. Nice speck that ! 
It makes one rich to think of it. Commit- 
tee return, and report the following reso- 

Besolved, That we, the bosses of this burgh, 
in order to form among ourselves a more per- 

fect union, establish justice, ensure our domes- 
tic tranquillity, provide for more pocket change, 
promote our individual welfare, and secure the 
blessing of a full purse, do give our hearty con- 
currence to the following resolutions. 

Besolved, That we will raise the price of 
board to fifty dollars, and that every student 
shall pay before taking his second meal. 

Besolved, That we will credit no student, un- 
less by so doing we may secure a former debt. 

Besolved, That as we lose by some, it is our 
right and privilege to make up the loss by 
charging extra on all. 

Besolved, That we consider these resolutions 
in strict accordance with justice. 

Besolved, That these resolutions be posted on 
our doors, and that each student shall receive 
a copy of the same, unless the money is forth- 



Vol. III. 


No. 7. 


Christopher North is no more. — 
The prince of sports — the scholar — the 
critic. No more the woods and hills and 
mountains of his heloved Scotland echo 
his manly voice ; her sons no longer hear 
the words of wisdom from his tongue ; 
no longer cull, with him the lettered 
page, and know its import. Full of 
days, beloved and honored he is gone 
to the house appointed for all living. — 
The Edinburgh Magazine thus an- 
nounces his death. "It is one of the 
painful duties which devolve on those 
connected with a work like the present, 
to be called on from time to time to 
commemorate the removal from this 
earthly scene, of those by whose origi- 
nal and inventive minds its peculiar 
character was impressed, or to whose 
genius and labors in after iffe it owed its 
continued influence and reputation. — 
More than once that melancholy task 
has been ours, for death has made more 
than his usual gaps in the ranks of 
those who were associated with the rise 
of this Magazine and its early success. 
But the greatest and most distinguish- 
ed of tfhat gifted band, whose name has 
been identified with it from first to last, 
Vol. m.— 40. 

had till now been spared; — withdrawn, 
indeed, for some time from those circles 
which he had enlightened and adorned 
— and already surrounded by some 
shadow of the coming night, but still 
surviving among us as a link connect- 
ing the present and the past, and form- 
ing the centre of a thousand sympathis- 
ing and reverential associations. He 
also has at last been gathered to his fel- 
lows. Professor Wilson expired at his 
house in Gloucester place on the morn- 
ing of the third April, 1854. Born in 
May, 1785," Ac. 

It is with pleasure that we contem- 
plate the literary career of this great 
man, identified as it is with that of the 
most distinguished men of the age. — 
What an interesting field is opened for 
the writer of biography ? What varied 
themes are offered to his consideration ? 
Who shall undertake to set before us 
one of the first minds of this age ? We 
hope some one who is equal to the task. 
Till then we will content ourselves with 
a pleasant retrospect of some of bis 
literary labours. Here, the first char- 
acteristics that strike our attention are a 
fertile imagination, boldness, originality. 



Who would not be the companion of 
Christopher in his sporting Jacket." — 
How admirably he developes the sports- 
man's all absorbing idea. From the 
time " the new-breeched urchin stands 
on the low bridge of the little bit bur- 
nie," until — 

"When first the hunter's startling horn is 
Upon the golden hill." 

All ye worshippers of chaste Dian, 
listen to Christopher in Fytte first, Fytte 
second, and Fytte third." Hear him 
as he reads your heart from its first 
youthful pit a pats to the more intense 
throbbings of manhood, and now that 
he is gone, now when you no longer 
" gaze with him over the wide circum- 
ference of a Highland heaven, calm as 
the bride's dream of love, or disturbed 
as the shipwrecked sailor's vision of a 
storm ;" does not his memory come 
crowding o'er you, causing you to cry 
out in his own inimitable strain. — 
" Christopher North, for ever holy be 
his name ! He it was who for ever had 
at command wit for the sportive, wis- 
dom for the serious hour. Fun and 
frolic flowed in the merry — they light- 
ened from the gay glancing of his eyes 
— and then, all at once, when the one 
changed its measure, and the other 
gathered, as it were, a mist or a cloud, 
an answering sympathy chained our 
own tongue, and darkened our own 
countenance, in intercommunion of 
spirit, felt to be indeed divine. No se- 
cret of pleasure or pain, of joy or grief, 
of fear or hope, had our heart to with- 
hold or conceal. He saw it as it beat with- 
in our bosom, with all its imperfections, 
may Ave venture to say, with all its vir- 
tues. Cataracts — in whose lonesome 

thunder, as it pealed into those pitchy 
pools, we durst not by ourselves have 
faced the spray — in his presence, dinn'd 
with a merry music in the desert, 
and cheerful was the thin mist they cast 
sparkling up into the air. And as we 
walked with him along the winding 
shores, how passing sweet the calm of 
both blue depths — how magnificent the 
white crested waves tumbling beneath 
the black thundercloud. More beauti- 
ful because our eyes gazed on it along 
with his, at the beginning or the end- 
ing of some sudden storm, the appaii- 
tion of the Rainbow ! Grandeur in its 
wildness, that seemed to sweep at once 
all the swinging and stooping woods, to 
our ears, because his too listened, the 
concerto by winds and waves played at 
midnight when not one star was in the 
sky." But read for yourselves and be- 
hold the wit, humor, pathos, just and 
beautiful description. This piece will 
find an echo in the heart of every true 
lover of nature. It shows a mind teem- 
ing with the most beautiful imagery, the 
most sublime conceptions, a heart fully 
alive to the genuine feelings of humani- 
ty, friendship love and sympathy. Here 
is a Scot in description, a Byron in feel- 
ing. His rural descriptions also are 
characteristic of a soul that felt while 
it described. Here we see no strained 
effort, no miserable attempt of a draw- 
ing room dandy to portray what his lit- 
tle soul cannot appreciate. We cannot 
conceive any thing more contemptible 
than a two-legged animal torturing 
himself into ecstasies over the beauties 
of a landscape. But Christopher's soul 
is there ; he revels amid all its beauties ; 
and this much of the poetic element 
shines forth in him, making his prose 



sometimes stalk majestically along the 
plain, sometimes take golden pinions, 
and fly away from earth. But you are 
ever with him, delighted, enraptured. 
He enlists your sympathy and uncon- 
sciously you are borne along. Take for 
example the following on the event of 
May-Day. " Art thou beautiful, as of 
old, O, wild moorland, silvan, and pas- 
toral Parish ! The Paradise in which 
our spirit dwelt beneath the glorious 
dawning of life — can it be, beloved 
world of boyhood, that thou art indeed 
beautiful as of old ? Though round and 
and round the boundaries in half an hour 
could fly the flapping dove — though 
the martens, wheeling to and fro that 
ivied and wall-flowered ruin of a Castle, 
central in its own domain, seem in their 
more distant flight to glance their cres- 
cent wings over a vale rejoicing apart 
in another kirkspin, yet how rich in 
streams, and rivulets and rills, each 
with its own peculiar murmur, art thou 
with thy bold bleak exposure, sloping 
upwards in ever lustrous undulations to 
the portals of the East ? How endless 
the interchange of woods and meadows, 
glens, dells, and broomy nooks, without 
number, among thy banks and braes. 
And then of human dwellings, how rises 
the smoke ever and anon into the sky, 
all neighbouring on each other, so that 
the cock-crow is heard from homestead 
to homestead — while as you wander 
onwards, each roof still rises unexpect- 
edly — and as solitary, as if it had been 
far remote. Fairest of Scotland's thou- 
sand parishes neither Highland nor 
Lowland — but undulating, let us again 
use the descriptive word, like the sea 
in sunset after a day of storms — yes, 
Heaven's blessings be upon thee ! Thou 

art indeed beautiful as of old." But 
these isolated extracts will not do him 
justice, he is so varied, so fruitful that 
even the whole of his writings will not 
adequately express the powers of his 
mind. But there is another character- 
istic in his descriptions which we have 
failed to notice elsewhere, and which 
stamps them for ever on our memories. 
They are sacred to the actions and the 
sympathies of humanity. A tale of 
joy or sorrow causes us to look again, 
and with more earnestness on the scen- 
ery of nature, and through sympathy 
with the subject we are drawn towards 
the place ; we discover new beauties, 
new objects of interest, we live aud 
move in the past, and we carry it with 
us into the future. This is not essen- 
tial to the justness of description; but 
let all who would .have their descrip- 
tions appreciated weave into them one 
of these heart tales if they would have 
them impressed on our minds. They 
are to us the spirit that awakens long 
forgotten scenes, and spreads them out 
at will before us. Without them the 
most gorgeous description would soon 
fade from our memories. And this 
borders on another region in the poetic 
w r orld which few have dared to enter. 
The sweet "bard of Windermere," is an 
exception. He first made nature sym- 
pathize with man ; and when we read 
him with the understanding we are 
taught to love our great mother, for we 
are shown that she loves us. However 
others may regard this truly great poet 
we consider Lis advent as a new era in 
the world of poetry, and we wish to see 
him followed by a world of imitators. 
We love that state of mind essential to 
comprehend his meaning, and we are 



grateful to him who can produce it. 
Byron sneered at him and then imitat- 
ed him. " A change came o'er the 
spirit of his dream " with a vengeance, 
and now he worships in the temple 
which he once profaned. Christopher 
thought him a great poet too, and thus 
he speaks of him : 

Nothing in this life and in this world 
had he to do, beneath sun, moon, and 
atars but, 

" To murmur by the living brooks, 
A music sweeter than their own." 

All men at times muse on nature 
with a poet's eye, but Wordsworth 
ever, and his soul has grown more and 
more religious from such worship. — 
Every rock is an altar, every grove a 
shrine." Christopher is not here criti- 
cising poetry, but showing that he is a 
poet himself, and one of the first stamp, 
had he nourished the " spark divine." 
But let us turn to his criticisms and see 
how he deals with the world around 
him, and also with the works of the past. 

The series of papers entitled "Nocte's 
Ambrosianse, published in the Edin- 
burgh Magazine contain criticisms on 
the greater number of the authors of 
his day ; as well as on many celebrated 
writers of preceding times. These were 
contributed from 1821 to 1835. No 
sketch can adequately set forth the 
amount of wit and satire, good humor 
and spirit of these productions. To ap- 
preciate them also requires some know- 
ledge of their subjects; but judging 
from what we know we may safely as- 
sert that they mete equal justice to all. 
The soul of Christopher disdained to 
descend among the herd of vulgar 
critics. Like the proud eagle of his 

own mountains he soared above all pet- 
ty animosities and jealousies ; and ex- 
tensive learning, acute powers of analy- 
sis and a good heart m ere his guides, 
and perhaps none ever made so few 
enemies in the unenviable capacity of a 
critic. And if the author of Uncle Toby 
had lived in his day we think he would 
have revoked his tirade against criti- 
cism. " Grant me patience, just Hea- 
ven, (says the critic ridden Sterne,) of 
all the cants which are canted, in this 
canting world — though the cant of 
Hypocrates may be the worst — the 
cant of criticism is the most torment- 
ing." We think the following frank 
assertion would have placed poor Sterne 
in good humor for a week — " I am ever 
compassionate when I see any thing 
like nature and originality. I do not 
demand the strength of a Hercules 
from every man. Let me have an hum- 
ble love of, and a sincere aspiration af- 
ter what is great, and I am satisfied. — 
I am intolerant to nobody but Quacks 
and Cockneys." A few examples will 
suffice to show how well he acted on 
the principles here laid down, and how 
greatly he adorned the art of true criti- 

And to begin with — here is some- 
thing about Coleridge that squares with 
our ideas of that obscurely profound 
genius. North — Mr. Coleridge. Is he 
in the habit, Hogg of making the pub- 
lic the confidants of his personal accom- 
plishments? The Shepherd. I canna 
weel tell, for deevil the like o' sic books 
as his did I ever see wi' my een beneath 
the blessed light. I'm no speakin o' his 
poems — but the Freen and the Lay Ser- 
mons are aneuch to drive ane to destruc- 
tion. What's logic? 



North. — Upon my honour as a gen- 
tleman, I do not know. If I did I 
would tell you with the greatest pleas- 

The Shepherd.— Weel, weel, Coleridge 
is aye accusing folk o' haeing no logic. 
The want o' a' things is owing to the 
want of logic, it seems. Noo, Mr. 
North, gin logic be soun reasoning, and 
I jalouse as much, he has less o't him- 
sel than anybody I ken, for he never 
sticks to the point two pages ; and to 
tell you the truth I aye feel as I were 
fuddled after perusing Coleridge. Then 
he's aye speaking o' himsel, but what 
he says I never can mak out. Let him 
stick to his poetry, for, oh! man, he's 
an unyerthly writer, and gies supersti- 
tion so beautiful a countenance, that she 
wiles folk on wi' her, like so many 
bairns in*o the flowery but fearfu' wilder- 
ness, where sleeping and wauking seem 
a' ae thing, and the very soul within us 
wonders what has become o' the every 
day warld, and asks hersel' what crea- 
tion is this that wavers and glimmers, 
and keeps up a bonnie wild musical 
sough, like that o' swarming bees, 
spring-startled birds, and the voice of a 
hundred streams, some wimpling awa' 
ower the Elysian meadows, and ithers 
roaring at a distance frae the clefts o' 
mount Abora." — Here are the ideas that 
have been wandering through our brain 
of the writings of Coleridge, but we could 
never clothe them in appropriate lan- 
guage. We are aware how popular 
the disciples of Coleridge have made his 
writings, and it is not hard to see what 
springs they have touched, and with 

The most absurd doctrines-will find 
advocates who will endeavour to find 

some hidden virtue in them, and thus 
induce men to waste their time and en- 
ergies on subjects not worthy of a pass- 
ing notice. Far be it frjbm us to apply 
this to the writings of Coleridge, for 
with all his obscurities we occasionally 
find glimmerings which indeed beamed 
on us before we saw them in the dark cha- 
os of his imagination, and for the dark- 
ness we are indebted to the metaphysi- 
cians of Germany. (Query?) What is left 
to Mr. Coleridge? Not even his boast- 
ed logic, according to our worthy friend, 
Mr. Hogg. But we have copied this as a 
specimen of the "Noctes Ambrosianse," 
and leave it to the judgment of ail 
candid readers. We always deem it 
better in considering an author, and 
holding him forth to the consideration 
of others to do this, by referring direct- 
ly to his own opinions expressed in his 
own language. It is too much the eus- 
tom of critics to take upon themselves 
the sole office of passing judgment ; 
and this they do after a hasty perusal 
which is like galloping over a tract of 
country to get a correct impression of 
the scenery, and of the nature of the 
soil, &c. Then comes a string of high 
sounding expressions, bearing it is true 
a remote likeness to the subject, but 
utterly devoid of those characterics 
which a careful perusal of the authors 
own works display to us. For example, 
see Gilfillan. There is no better proof 
of this than the fact that two criticas- 
ters never agree as to one thing. We 
then turn over our readers, or rather in- 
vite them to partake of the rich treasures 
of the "Noctes Ambrosianse," and we 
think they will have a rich variety of 
dreams, at least ; which may prepare 
them for the " Dies Boreales," of Chris- 



topher under Canvass. And here the 
soul of Christopher soars throughout 
the Empyrean of thought. Here un- 
fettered, and strengthened, he delights 
in the companionship of the mightiest 
spirits. Ye who have Shakespeare and 
Milton at your tongue's end, sit with 
Christopher under Canvass, and see 
whether you are in the spirit or the let- 
ter. How reverently he attends on Mil- 
ton as the latter sits, as it were, brood- 
ing over his great work ; and delighted 
he beholds the great master reduce the 
chaos to order, beauty. Then with an 
artist's eye he examines all the parts, 

and having finished, transported, he 
exclaims, it is all very good. With 
Shakespeare, too, he enters the inner 
chamber of the heart, and beholds with 
admiration while the great masterpoints 
out its imagery. 

Oh ! ye who have listened to the 
teachings of this great man, how must 
your souls have burned within you in 
sympathy with his, as he made Milton 
and Shakespeare preach from their own 
texts, and with their own native, elo- 
quence. Long shall his spirit illumine 
the land of his birth, and distant climes 
shall acknowledge his merits. 


There is perhaps no region on the 
face of the earth more interesting to the 
young Carolinian than the mountains 
of his native State. Though in gran- 
deur and magnificence they fall far short 
of the great European, Asiatic, and 
American ranges, yet in richness of vir- 
dure, and loveliness of scenery they are 
said to be unsurpassed. In a word, one 
of her most brilliant and talented sons 
has told us that " North Carolina has a 
mountain scenery as fair and beautiful 
as the pencil of nature hath ever 
sketched in any laud." 

But be that as it may, the mountains 
of Carolina present many attractions to 
the student, when n after the monoto- 

nous labor of a Collegiate year, he is just 
verging from the Freshman into the 
Sophomore, or from the Sophomore in- 
to the Junior ; when he can lay aside 
Mathematics to converse wiih nature, 
and drop Thucydides and Horace, to 
chat with his lady-love. If he wishes 
to invigorate his body by healthful ex- 
ercise, and relieve his mind by pleasant 
recreation, let him spend his summer 
vacation beyond the Blue Ridge, where 
deer, bear, buttermilk, honey, and ro- 
mantic scenery may be found ad libi- 
tum. But to our subject. 

On a fine Monday morning in the 
latter part of June, a merry company 
consisting of three ladies, and as ruany 



gentlemen, myself among the number, 
set but from the valley of the Yadkin 
for the " Big Mountains." After six or 
eight miles of level road along the river, 
we began to ascend the Blue Ridge on 
a turnpike which has been lately con- 
structed from the head-waters of the 
Yadkin, across the mountains into Ten- 

We reached the top of the Ridge 
about half past six, P. M., and leaving 
our vehicles walked over to the " Blow- 
ing-Rock," about a quarter of a mile 
from the road, to see the sunset. We 
were just in time; for the sun was sink- 
ing behind the mountains with a glory 
peculiar to western Carolina. 

The "Blowing-Rock" is a jutting 
cliff overlooking a precipitous gorge, 
three or four, hundred feet deep. It 
derives its name from a strong current 
of air that rushes up from the vallies 
below, when the wind is in a certain 
direction. Once upon a time, a hunter 
is said to have thrown a worthless dog 
over this precipice in order to get rid of 
him ; but to his great surprise, the dog 
was blown back, and landed in safety 
at his feet. I will not vouch for this 
story, but '■'■they' 1 ' 1 say it is true. 

We clambered up to the edge of the 
rock, and a magnificent view burst up- 
on us. Far away to our right lay the 
Alleghanies. Immediately before us, 
in a southwesterly direction, the old 
" Grandfather " reared his rugged head ; 
while to the south and east, the "Black 
Mountains," "Table Rock," and innu- 
merable intermediate ranges were visi- 

As far as the eye can reach, range 
rises above range till sky and mountains 
seem to meet. 

We sat upon the cliff enjoying this 
splendid scenery, and listening to the 
notes of a thousand feathered songsters 
brought up by the breeze in a volume 
from the chasms below, till the near ap- 
proach of night admonished us to seek 
for lodging ; so we returned to our 
vehicles, and rode a mile or two further 
to a Mr. Green's. Though the accom- 
modations here are rough, we got a 
good night's sleep, and rose bright and 
early next morning. After a day's ride 
over the mountains, a man does not 
need a " costly banquet to court his ap- 
petite," or " sweet music to soothe his 

We then left the turnpike, and took 
the road to Boone, eight miles distant ; 
visiting on our way the "Flat-top," a 
beautiful mountain, and very easy of 
access, by way of preparing the ladies 
for the severer toil that was before 

We found the view, however, much 
finer than we had expected. 

After wandering for an hour or two 
over the mossy rocks, and beneath the 
shady oaks which cover this delightful 
spot, we descended to the carriages, 
which had been left in the road, and 
addressed ourselves with a hearty good 
will, to the contents of a certain basket, 
carried along by way of "internal im- 
provement." The ladies did their part 
manfully ; and it was really astonishing 
to see how the fair creatures did make 
the bacon fly. After satisfying " the 
keen demands of appetite" we set off, 
leaving Boone io our left, and took the 
road to Jefferson, the county town of 

A ride of fifteen or twenty miles 
brought us to a Mr. Dobbin's on Elk 



Creek, one of the tributaries of New 
Rivet*. Here we spent the night, intend- 
ing next day to visit the " Big Bald " 
and " Elk Knob," distant only a few 

If any of our readers should take a 
trip into these regions, we advise them 
to put up at Mr. Dobbin's ; he is a very 
clever man, and has a more commodi- 
ous house than can generally be found 
in that part of Ashe. 

Next morning, according to previous 
arrangement, we set out to spend the 
day on the "Big Bald" and "Elk Knob," 
Mr. Dobbin kindly furnishing us with 
saddles, and going along as guide. Af- 
ter proceeding half a mile, the road be- 
came exceedingly steep and rough. Our 
ladies, however, were not to be intimi- 
dated by trifling obstacles, but pushed 
boldly on over logs and through the 
bushes, until we reached a table-land 
of several hundred acres, covered with 
a beautiful growth of oaks, where we 
stopped to rest, and admire the beau- 
ties of nature in the shape of some very 
fine cattle, that seemed to be enjoying 
the shade as much as ourselves. After 
leaving this table-land, we came out in- 
to an extensive prairie covering the top 
of the mountain we had been ascending, 
and giving it the name of "Bald." 

At first we could see only the tops of 
the surrounding mountains, but as we 
ascended they seemed to rise out as it 
were, and when we reached the top where 
there was nothing at all to obstruct the 
view, they stood out in all their magni- 
ficence around us. But it would be 
folly for me to attempt a description of 
the scenery from this point. I can on- 
ly say that it is magnificent, and if any 
of my readers will go up west next 

summer, and look at it for themselves, 
they will agree with me. 

After spending an hour here very 
pleasantly, and regaling ourselves with 
some very fine strawberries, which, by 
the way, were not quite ripe, though it 
was the 29 th of June ; we descend- 
ed and crossed over the Elk Knob about 
two miles distant, and several hundred 
feet higher than the " Bald." We rode 
within half a mile of the top, and stop- 
ping at a noble spring that bursts out 
of the mountainside at an elevation of 
several thousand feet above the sur- 
rounding country, we paid our respects 
to the aforementioned basket, every one 
of the party doing full justice to its 
contents, except one poor fellow, who 
from some unaccountable cause had en- 
tirely lost his appetite. , 

The water in particular was very de- 
lightful ; so very cold that it would 
make one's fingers ache to hold them 
in it half a minute. I am certain it was 
colder than any ice-water I ever drank 
at Chapel Hill. 

Dinner over, we set off ou foot and 
reached the top of "Elk Knob" in 
about half an hour, stopping occasion- 
ally as we ascended, on the green grass 
beneath a rugged cliff, to rest and look 
out upon the scenery around. On the 
highest part of the summit grows a sol- 
itary beech that looks as if it had been 
beaten by the storms of a hundred win- 
ters. It is said that. many years ago, an 
old man named Furguson, preached be- 
neath this beech to a numerous congre- 
gation ; and never was the Almighty 
worshipped in a more gorgeous temple. 
Here, his own hand has "hewn the 
shaft" and "laid the architrave," and 
" framed the lofty vault." 



Far away to the northwest lie the 
Cumberland mountains, that separate 
Virginia from Kentucky, and about 
eighty miles nearer, the Smoky moun- 
tains, the dividing line between North 
Carolina and Tennessee. Northward 
are the White top, and a number of 
other mountains in Virginia; the pin- 
nacle of the Pilot is just visible to the 
northeast ; and eastward lies the Blue- 
Ridge, stretching away northeasterly as 
far as the eye can reach. On the south- 
east the ragged peaks of the Grandfather 
rise high above the surrounding ranges, 
while to the south are a long line of 
blue mountaintops that seem to melt 
away inio the horizon. 

The most prominent feature of the 
view is the Snake mountain, six miles 
southwest. The top of it is on the line 
between this State and Tennessee, which 
makes a great elbow at this point. 

We enjoyed ourselves finely here for 
an hour or two, and then began to de- 
scend, " whereby hangs a tale." 

One of our company, whom we have 
before mentioned as having lost his ap- 
petite, was escorting one of the young 
ladies, and for some reason or other, 
these two were far behind the rest. The 
path was very steep and precipitous, 
but our hero assured the lady that if 
she would be patient, and content to 
follow his directions, he would bring her 
down in safety. 

The fair creature, however, wishing 
to be independent of him and his atten- 
tions, disregarded his advice, and was 
getting along as best she could, without 
his assistance, when lo ! her foot slipped, 
and down she went with a vengeance. 
She would no doubt have been in griev- 
ous plight in a few seconds, had not the 

gallant youth sprung forward and 
caught her just as she was about to 
tumble over a precipice ! It is no doubt 
easier to conceive than to describe his 
feelings, especially when we remember 
that the lady, though quite angelic in 
feature, form, and character, was no 
feather in weight, insomuch that she 
had well nigh dragged him over with 
her. This, however, only added to the 
romantic nature of the exploit. After 
a hearty laugh she recovered herself, 
and a few minutes thereafter we reach- 
ed the spring, took a parting draught, 
and remounting, returned to Mr. Dob- 
bin's, having enjoyed as much pleasure 
as generally falls to the lot of mortals 
within the same length of time. 

We set off next morning, and after 
a rough ride, and a deal of trouble with 
a "balky team," reached Jefferson at 
two o'clock. We visited the Negro 
mountain on the same evening, and re- 
turned to Jefferson before dark, after 
meeting with several adventures, illus- 
trative of the inconvenience of long 
dresses on a mountain trip, which we 
have not time to relate. 

The top of the Negro is a mile and 
a half from the village, and the ascent 
is steep and difficult. But few down- 
the-country fair ones could have walked 
up there and back after three o'clock in 
the evening. Our ladies, however, were 
a great way ahead of most of their sex, 
not only in this particular, but also in 
many others. 

Early in the morning of the thirty- 
first we set out for Wilkesboro', and no 
sooner had we descended the blue ridge, 
than we perceived a very great differ- 
ence of temperature. While the ther- 
moneter had stood between 96° and 



100° during the past week, at Wilkes- 
i»oro', we had been setting by fires and 
sleeping under blankets every night in 
Ashe. We returned to the " Happy 
Valley " on the first of July, having 
been absent just a week. 

The pleasure of this trip was greatly 
enhanced by the presence of the ladies, 
and more especially by the company of 
a young lawyer who was one of our 

number, and of whom I may truly sayi 
that he is a man of fine talents, fine 
education, fine taste, and in a word, a 
most delightful companion. We repeat 
then, that if a student of the Universi- 
ty wishes to improve his health, mental? 
moral, and physical, let him visit the 
mountains of North Carolina. 

Ned Eyesopen- -. 


"I would recall a vision which I dreamed 
Perchance in sleep — for in itself a thought, 
A slumbering thought is capable of years. 
And curdles a long life into one hour." 


Chapel Hill, N. C, ) 
April 30, 1854. [ 

Methought I stood in a densely 
wooded vale. The moon whose pale 
face is ever covered with a smile pervad- 
ed with its mellow rays the scene. The 
little stars peeped with innocent curiosi- 
ty through the green foliage of the 
majestic monarchs of the forest. All 
was still, save, ever and anon, a gentle 
zephyr played caressingly with the 
leaves, as it passed softly by. A zephyr 
did I say ? Perhaps it might have been 
some lonely spirit, whose privilege it 
was, to revisit earth, and dwell among 
the ruins among which I stood — and 
frightened at my appearance had be- 

trayed its presence in that manner. Be- 
fore me, and standing nearly erect, a 
huge Idol whose only temple was the 
overlapping arms of two huge trees 
standing near; caught my attention. — 
Around its base, blocks, chapiters, pil- 
lars, and slabs upon whose surface nu- 
merous curiously wrought figures were 
traced, were scattered in wild confusion, 
and not far distant the outline of a tem- 
ple could be faintly seen. Did I say 
all was still. No, the little cricket 
chirped playfully in the grass and leaves; 
the whippoorwill sent forth in measured 
notes its plaintive song — while near by 
the nightingale sang the requiem of 
departed grandeur. From the remains 



of the temple the moans of the " grey- 
eyed" owl, was heard — and occasional 
ly the presaging croak of the raven was 
borne to my ears, as onward he wheel- 
ed his solitary course. I stood astound- 
ed. The grim Idol before me seemed 
with its leaden gaze to transfix me to 
the spot. And with my imagination 
already fevered, I fancied I saw. spirits 
flitting among the trees, or lingering 
about the ivy-clad ruins of the temple. 
Exhausted, I seated myself upon an 
oval stone and viewed with silent awe 
the deathlike scene. 

Soon a sound as of one walking came 
to my ear. Presently I espied a bend- 
ing form supported by a staff, approach, 
ing the statue. Upon his back he car- 
ried a small bag or wallet, and empty- 
ing its contents upon a rough-hewn 
stone altar in front of the image, with 
uncovered head knelt in worship. He 
prayed long and fevently in a strange 
language. Arising and turning toward 
me, with countenance upturned to 
the moon, he bent in adoration. What 
he then worshipped I knew not. — 
Perhaps it was the invisible spirit, or 
more likely the moon and stars. His 
features half covered with a long, grey 
beard, betokened a calm bosom : 

" resignation ! yet unsung, 

Untouched by former strains 
Though claiming every muse's smile 

And every poet's pains." 

A more christian-like resignation 
never sat upon mortal countenance, and 
I felt as if I were in the presence of 
some old patriarch as I crouched in awe 
and conscious inferiority. His devo- 
tions being ended, with faltering steps 
he returned without intimating any 

knowledge of my presence — I was lost 
in meditation. Blind Pagan ! thought 
I, how faithfully dost thou worship gods 
of stone ! How reverentially dost thou 
bend in adoration to the moon and 
stars ! Were it thy privilege, with how 
much zeal wouldst thou enlist in the 
cause of the most High. Old man re- 
turn ! Tell me why thou worshipped 
that block of stone ; tell me why thy 
god is protected by no temple ? and 
why do not thousands present their of- 
ferings at the same altar? Art thou 
the last of this God's worshippers ? — 
Old man I would that thou wouldst re- 
turn ; my questions are innumerable. 

Thus my crazed mind was pondering. 
The hour of twelve had arrived. I rais- 
ed my eyes toward heaven, for I heard 
a loud noise. The silvery lustre of the 
moon was dimmed and the little stars 
hid their faces, and as iEneas with his 
fugitive host, stood astounded, when 

°Subitaje horrifico lapsu de montibus ad- 
sun t, 

Harpyise, et magnis quatiunt clangoribus 

so sat I, as I beheld a heavenly being 
drawing near. Perching upon a lofty 
tree, above the Idol the Genius pierc- 
ingly eyed me. I should have melted 
before her sight had not her cheering 
voice thus addressed me. That silvery 
voice echoed far and wide. The cricket 
hid in the rubbage, the owl ceased his 
hootings, and the whippoorwill and 
nightingale flew to their hiding-places. 
" Young man I heard your inquiry. — 
My name is Onar. The Almighty has 
made me the guardian angel of these 
ruins, and while reposing upon yonder 
mountain I heard your prayer, and that 



of the old man whose humble offering 
is before thee, and am now in thy pres- 
ence prepared to answer thy many 
questions. The task you have imposed 
upon me is an arduous one, but I am 
commanded to answer in the name of 
Him who placed me here. Come with 
me, fortunate youth ! and I will 
show thee wonders." So saying, Onar 
approached me, and upon touching me 
I became lighter than air. Upward I 
ascended. Up, up I went until moun- 
tains dwindled into mole-hills — up, up 
I ascended until the earth itself appear- 
ed as a large map spread out at my 
feet. I could trace the boundaries of 
North and South America, while the 
Atlantic and Pacific dotted with islands 
lay spread out like a sea of molten sil- 
ver far and wide. I could see nothing 
but black and white as one sees upon 
the surface of the moon. The earth 
appeared to be a great luminary, re- 
sembling in brightness the moon, being 
however a great deal larger. 

Onar who had proceeded thus far in 
silence, suddenly turned, and discover- 
ing my astonishment thus addressed 
me, "yon bright spot between North 
and South America, as thou well know- 
est, is the gulf of Mexico, and that broad 
expanse of waters to the west, whose 
surface is as still as the breeze that gent- 
ly kisses its surface, is the great Pacific. 
That range of dots which extends to 
the northward, is the Rocky Mountain 
range, and the dots extending south- 
ward, the continuation of the same, is 
the Andes. The bright sheet of water 
which thou seest immediately beneath 
us is lake Nicaragua, and the mountain 
situated upon its western shore is 
Momotombita. Thither would I direct 

your attention." Touching my eyes 
gently, my sight became intensely 
acute. I could discern the smallest ob- 
jects. The Idol which I had just left I 
could plainly see. The inhabitants like 
ants appeared here and there — I was 
thus musing in mute amazement, when 
suddenly I was blinded, and descend- 
ing lit upon Momotombita. Here 
touching my eyes and ears Onar bade 
me look and hear. 

Shall I attempt to describe the scene 
which then was spread out before me ? 
Words are inadequate. Instead of 
dreariness and scarcity which hitherto 
met the view, freshness and plentitude 
pervaded the scene. Where before the 
bewildered traveller traced with dif- 
ficulty a ruined city, then splendid cities 
dotted the coasts of the Atlantic and 
Pacific. The inland country too was 
densely populated ; vessels plowed the 
waters of the lake below us. A large 
city sprang into existence at the foot of 
the mountain on which we sat. Along 
the coasts I saw vessels laden with rich 
merchandise. The cities were in busy 
commotion. I saw thousands wending 
heir way in busy concourse through their 
well-laid out streets, &c, &c. The sign, 
of the merchant was plainly seen, while 
the sound of the axe and the, hammer 
was borne commingled with the song 
of wassail and festivity to my ears, a 
sure index of prosperity and happiness. 
Directing my attention to the magnifi- 
cent city beneath me, I soon found ma- 
ny thing 1 * of interest, being able to dis- 
cern objects more accurately. Every- 
thing betokened a city enjoying all the 
blessings of good government. I noticed 
many large buildings which I supposed 
to be temples, which was soon confirm- 




ed. At particular times thousands 
would assemble about them, and " a 
noise as of many waters," ascended to 
heaven as they worshipped. I noticed 
a temple standing in the midst of the 
city, surpassing in size and magnificence 
all the rest, and upon its top stcod a 
chapel, where as Onar told me, an Idol 
stood. But what surprised me most 
was, that notwithstanding the great 
number of idols distributed throughout 
the city each of which had its worship- 
pers, this one should command univer- 
sal attention. The power was given me 
to see the inmost recesses of these tem- 
ples, but my undivided attention was 
directed to the small chapel — small 
when compared with the building on 
which it stood. A huge image painted 
red, and magnificently decorated, was 
standing at one end. An altar stood 
immediately in front of the image, upon 
which I observed a platter filled with 
some fleshy substance. I observed also 
something of the same character in the 
mouth of the idol. Near by, I remark- 
ed, an oval stone, upon which a long, 
crooked red knife was lying. Examin- 
ing things more closely, I soon discov- 
ered that what I had supposed to be 
paint, was blood, that the platter was 
filled with hearts, that the knife was 
stained with blood. Presently several 
priests with hair clotted with blood and 
wearing long dark colored robes enter- 
ed the chapel. Mute with astonishment 
I turned to Onar inquiringly. Hold 
says she : Things will explain them- 

Suddenly a sound broke upon my ear. 
A murmur as a dark cloud rose upward. 
A low, muttering sound was heard deep 
in the bowek of the earth. I looked 

toward the Atlantic, and a strange ves- 
sel hove in sight. Those on board were 
of a white complexion. I saw them 
land — I saw the Indian take the viper 
into his bosom with friendly innocence. 
I saw the cross planted upon the shore, 
while the simple native stood and mute- 
ly gazed. I saw the captain, whose 
name was Bigot, accompanied with Fa- 
naticism, enter the temples, and soon 
returning to their followers. I saw by 
their actions that they were exasperated. 
I heard them harrangue and exhort the 
crew, and when they ended a loud ac- 
clamation of applause rent the heavens. 
With one accord they rushed into th«e 
temples, and with sacrilegious hands, 
the gods of the poor Indian were thrown 
from their pedestals, and the priests 
themselves murdered. The temples 
were laid in ashes, and the cross plant- 
ed upon their smouldering ruins. Here 
my musings were interrupted by Onar, 
who spake as follows : 

"Young man I I see that thou art as- 
tounded. Yonder ships are from Spain. 
Those are Spaniards who have entered 
the temples, and hurled the gods of the 
Indian, and their shrine into one com- 
mon ruin. They are Roman Catholics, 
as might have been readily inferred 
from the crosses which they have erect- 
ed ; yes, they have insulted the gods of 
the natives and wish to force upon them 
a strange religion — the religion of the 
cross. Mark you, a storm rises in the 
east. See yonder black cloud. It is 
hovering over the intruders, and short- 
ly bursting, will rain its poisonous con- 
tents upon their avaricious heads. — 
Look, as thick as the Egyptain locusts 
the Indians assemble, arrayed in all 
their simple panoply of war. Now, 



they fall upon the white man — over- 
whelming numbers carry the day. The 
Spaniards are surrounded — are taken 
prisoners of war.' The cross is hurled 
into the sea, the ships are sacked and 
burned. Look, young man, things will 
explain themselves." 

As the thunder of the storm-cloud 
rolls threateningly across the heavens 
after the contents have been discharged, 
but at last dies away, and naught is 
seen or heard save the desolation in its 
pathway — so did this commotion at last 
subside. A mighty wave had, however, 
flowed and reflowed from the Atlantic 
to the Pacific, and from Mexico to Peru, 
casting up as it swept the very dregs of 

Hooked down upon the city before me, 
and beheld a small troop approaching 
the gate. Some five or six captives are 
borne along, bound haud and foot, ex- 
hausted and pale. They enter, amid 
the hideous yells of th: j ir fellow beings, 
for the intelligence of their approach 
had preceded them. The priests rush- 
ed from the temples, with hair clotted 
with warm blood, and brandishing 
knives over their heads. Rushing into 
the dense multitude, I expected to see 
them reek their vengeance upon the de- 
fenseless bodies of the Spaniards, but to 
my utter astonishment they withheld 
the bloody knife. Can it be possible, 
thought I, that they, touched with a 
sense of pity, have determined to spare 
the wretched captives ? Can it be that 
God has taken the part of the adventu- 
rous Christian, and melted the hearts 
of these demons into compassion ? Is 
it possible that the superstitious Indian, 
awed by the presence of a superior be- 
ing has halted to adore, and not to 

murder? No, no. Towards the lofty 
temple before-mentioned, the priests 
with their charge, wend their way, the 
multitude following. Now, the priests 
are wending their way up the spiral as- 
cent of the temple, and now as the 
thunder of applause rises from below, 
the victims are placed upon the top. — 
The altar and the oval stone, the usual 
accompaniments of the idols of Central 
America, are there. Lost in wonder 
and amazement, Onar breaks the si- 
lence, " See now the cause of the over- 
throw of this great nation. See now 
why it is that yon Idol, once blindly 
adored by thousands, is now neglected 
and unknown. See why it is that the 
good of war — the Mars of the Indian 
and his temple — lie buried in one com- 
mon grave of oblivion. See, O man ! 
how it is that man works his own des- 
truction." Her words were succeeded 
by a low bellowing sound, deep in the 
bowels of the earth. The volcanoes 
gave forth a blacker smoke, and the 
heavens grew darker. But look, led 
by two priests, a prisoner, as naked as 
when first he saw the light, was placed 
with face upward, upon the oval stone. 
Two held fast his hands, while two oth- 
ers secured his legs. A fifth plunged 
the murderous blade into the breast of 
the victim. Ripped with one blow, the 
heart lay bare, but as quick as exposed, 
was plucked from its cell, and hurled, 
yet palpitating, into the face of the grim 
Idol. The body, still heaving in the 
throes of death, was thrown over the 
precipitous wall, which as soon as it 
touched the earth, was devoured with 
wolfish ferocity by the hellish multitude 
below. A trembling was felt. The 
mountains belched forth more furiously 



the livid element. The sea was agitated. 
Black thunder clouds hovered lazily 
around the summits of the mountains. 
In a word, nature frowned upon the 
horrid scene. 

Another, and another victim was 
sacrificed, until the last was hurled in 
the agonies of death, to the bottom of 
the tower, to be devoured by the savages. 
So intensely were they occupied with 
their infernal ceremonies, that no one 
perceived the symptoms of the coming 
earthquake. It was not until the last 
Christian had been slaughtered, and the 
murderous hand found no further em- 
ployment, that the blood thirsty savages 
were led to notice the war which the 
elements were preparing to wage 
against them. 

" Look," said Onar, " God is angry. 
The christain has been sacrificed upon a 
pagan altar, to appease a pagan god. — 
See, circumstances will explain them- 

The heavens grew darker and darker, 
the thunder in the bowels of the earth 
roared louder and louder, and strug- 
gling to give vent to their murmurings, 
mountains tottered on their broad bases; 
the sea receded from the shore, the 
earth gaped and great chasms were fill- 
ed with the confused heaps of the living, 
the dying and the dead. Mountains 
which had hitherto slept, awoke and 
streams of lava, glittering in the murky 
darkness, ran serpent-like down their 
sides burying populous cities which 
stood at their bases, in a grave of sul- 
phurous fire. The darkness was so in- 
tense that notwithstanding my extraor- 
dinary acnteness of vision, I could not 
see, but as ever and anon the thunders 
hushed, I heard a wild cry, as it went 

upward, as of thousands perishing in 
despair below. Meanwhile the moun- 
tain on whose snow-clad summit we sat, 
insensible to heat or cold, began to nod 
as the fragile trees at its base. The 
The snow of centuries began to melt, 
and on a sudden the top dropped from 
beneath us, and left us in mid heaven. 
A huge chaldron foamed and roared 
far beneath us, and as the flames rose 
high, giving a bright light, I saw the 
lefty temple reel and totter as a drunk- 
en man, the war-god of the Indian